


The Rat Who Calls Himself Jareth

by Shadowlurker13



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Faustian Bargain, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9298448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowlurker13/pseuds/Shadowlurker13
Summary: Sarah defeated the king, but can she defeat Jareth? And what does Sir Didymus have to do with this mess?





	1. Chapter 1

The Rat Who Calls Himself Jareth  
By   
Shadowlurker13

 

Chapter 1: William vs. Williams

“You have no power over me.”

Sarah heard her own words echo over and over, swirling about with the chiming of the clock in the surrealist limbo where she faced her adversary, bits of castle floating in slow motion everywhere. The Goblin King looked tired and spent as he flung his last crystal into the air… and then something very odd happened. His pallid skin suddenly took on a healthy flush, the strange eye marks gone. His hair fell limp as if the only thing that had been holding it up in the first place had been static electricity. And his clothes took on a more earthly look, albeit a bit antiquated, maybe mid-to-late 1700s: knee-length breeches with stockings and brown shoes, slightly poofy shirt, the whole nine yards. All of what had made him seem magical had all followed the crystal up into the air and dissolved around it simultaneously. The shimmering, twirling orb had its magical detritus circling it about twenty feet above them like a miniature planet. After a tense moment of them both staring up at it intently, he abruptly sighed in relief, breaking the intolerable silence.

“I can’t believe that actually worked.” 

Sarah looked supremely lost and still a bit wary, not quite willing to trust her current company.

“Okay, what the heck just happened right here?”

“You freed me from a terrible curse. A thousand and one apologies, Miss Williams; I had no choice in my actions whatsoever.”

She blinked in surprise. “You’re human!”

“Alas, only a man, as you perceive.” He laughed a little nervously. “I’m afraid my nerves are still a bit rattled, I’ve completely forgotten my manners. William Cooke of London, England, at your service, Miss,” he said, extending a hand to her fingertips and lightly kissing the back of her hand. “Not that my service will do you much good.”

“What do you mean? Where’s Toby?”

“He’s safe back at your house. I’d advise you to take a seat,” he said, walking over to a bit of stairway and sitting down himself, gesturing for her to join him. Intrigued but having an odd foreboding, she did so. “What I have to say is not easy, and neither am I proud of my actions, but I must give you a chance.” He took a deep breath, staring at the paving stones. “Many, many years ago when I was young, I wished away my brother, just as you did. I won him back, as you have.” He stopped and looked at her. “And I have been trapped here as Jareth the Goblin King to this very hour. Do you understand what I am saying, Miss?” There were tears in his eyes. Sarah’s widened in horror. He simply nodded in sympathy. “There is no such person as Jareth. The real one was a little goblin who couldn’t take being treated as inferior by those stronger and brighter than itself and he… made a devil’s bargain of sorts. He got a spell that made him attractive and powerful but the price was human souls. When one finally bested him at his diabolical little game, he decided to have the last laugh and transferred the spell to the human who won. That was at least three millennia ago. From that time on, the Goblin King has always been the champion of the Labyrinth, both concealed and trapped by this hideous curse. To my knowledge I am the seventeenth. There have been two women and no one noticed the difference! The only way for one to gain one’s liberty is to lose the game and it is seldom played anymore. You are the first wisher I have seen in close to a hundred years. I had all but given up hope. God forgive me for what I have done! For what I must do!” He suddenly exclaimed, stricken with guilt, as if thinking about his involuntary actions for the first time, burying his face in his hands.

Sarah was overwhelmed and on impulse put one arm around his shoulders. If anyone ever needed a hug… After a minute he pulled himself together enough to continue talking, giving her an uneasy smile. 

“Since I assumed no help was forthcoming I began to theorize alternative routes of escape. It helped to pass the time.” He gently moved out of her embrace with a nod of thanks, got up and began to pace what was left of the floor. “Every idea I could come up with was a dead-end.” He stopped. “Except one.” He looked up at the crystal a moment. “This spell seems to have one interesting little flaw: it overcompensates what one sees as one’s weaknesses, one’s insecurities. I am not terribly confident in my dealings with the weaker sex; I have always been naturally shy in general and…well… it most certainly did away with that, almost to the point that I’m a bit ashamed of myself. I really must apologize, Miss. Some of my behavior was quite inexcusable.” 

He started pacing again. Sarah was too dumbfounded to speak and totally engrossed in what he had to say. 

“The point being, if someone could be found who had no weaknesses in their own eyes to speak of, I think the spell could be neutralized. But it has to be someone here, someone who likes it here and wants to stay. And watching you and your entourage just now, I think I’ve found him.” 

Sarah’s eyes widened. “Sir Didymus?!”

“Precisely so! Upright to a fault. A natural leader. And such a glorious opinion of himself I don’t think the spell could possibly alter him at all!”

Sarah thought a moment. “What are the odds that he’d turn into a great big wolf with a short temper and an enormous… ego?”

Will did a full-body shiver. “I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose it’s a risk but I don’t think it’s likely. The man who was king before me told me of his experiences when I won and the king before him had told him the secret and the burden. The spell exploits weakness - not even real weakness, perceived weakness. I think he will be safe. It could break the cycle for good. You must try to get away before you are called upon to perform your duty, your payment for immortality and power! The dethroned king is always returned to earth. Hurry Didymus to the crown then return home and find and destroy the remaining books on the Labyrinth. The one in your house is an antique; there can’t be many left. They were made in desperation by the king before me and the text alters to fit the times but, heaven be praised, I’ve seen one burned! It’s completely possible.”

He stopped and made a small motion toward the crystal. At the edge of the platform a glowing portal appeared.

“My way home,” he said quietly. “I dearly wish I could bring you with me but you wouldn’t be allowed through. I almost broke my nose running into this thing headlong when the last man left. The transformation will commence the moment I depart.” 

There was deep regret in his eyes as he took in the girl’s form. He was a grown man and he had barely made it through with any sense of who he was, who he had been, remaining him. How was she ever going to survive this?

If Sarah had been scared before, she was absolutely terrified now. It was one thing to fight Jareth as a person, but to fight Jareth as a part of herself was almost unthinkable. And it was about to happen any moment now.

“Will,” she called to him impulsively, her voice shaking, “please don’t leave me!”

In an instant he was at her side, bringing her to her feet and holding her tightly. It was intensely awkward - he was a complete stranger - but she found an odd comfort in the embrace, knowing that it came from someone who knew exactly what she was going through. At length he pulled back, gently holding her upper arms. 

“I shall pray for your soul,” he said and gave her a small, chaste kiss on the top of her head, letting go, as he backed toward the portal. “Remember who you are, Sarah Williams. That’s all you have to do. Perhaps I shall see you again.” He took one more step back and was enveloped by the light.

He was gone.

The portal collapsed into a vertical line of blinding blue light and shot back into the crystal. And the crystal headed toward her! Sarah had to fight the impulse to run - there was no escaping this thing, whatever it was. She was suddenly showered in glittering sparkles of light and a palpable wave of electricity washed around her. She experienced an Olympian surge of physical strength and confidence and power, raw power, power enough to do whatever she wanted in this world and the arrogance and ease that went with it. She suddenly had the odd feeling of collapsing in on herself and the next thing she knew she was flapping her new owl wings effortlessly back to the castle.

She was Jareth.


	2. We Have Met the Enemy and He is Us

Sarah seemed to instinctively know where her quarters were in the castle; she made a bee-line for them as if she were running to her own room at home. She zipped through the window, transformed at a simple thought, collapsed on the bed and stayed there for a long time. The change was psychologically exhausting but, to her surprise, she wasn’t sad at all. In fact, she felt exhilarated, nigh triumphant. She was practically a god in this place! She allowed herself the luxury of an hours-long nap to recover mentally, assuming that the chaos downstairs couldn’t get much worse without her for a while. When she awoke, she surveyed the ‘damage’ to her appearance in a full-length mirror. The room was sparsely furnished: just a large bed and a table with some oddities on it, a few large candles bolted to the stone walls (she hesitated to think what the tallow was made from), a rough bookcase filled with ancient tomes in a myriad of languages (all of which she found she could now read) and a floor-to-ceiling gilt mirror.

She could’ve looked a lot worse. She was in a loose white poet’s shirt with a slit that ran down past her breasts which revealed them slightly but not so much as to make her look cheap. There was a low, tight cincher at her waist, cream with gold-swirled embroidery. She wore tight denim-blue leggings and very-high-heeled light brown suede boots that came up to her knees. The crest of the empire was about her neck, resting temptingly between her cleavage. It was, in fact, a bizarre parody of what she had been wearing when she entered the Labyrinth earlier that day. 

Her eyes bore those strange markings - she couldn’t stop touching them it was so weird! It was as if they had been tattooed onto her eyelids and brows, the pigment just below the skin. Her long, dark hair was teased up a bit but at least it wasn’t sticking up straight like poor William’s had. She had been wondering why on earth Jar - er - Will had done that with this hair all thirteen hours. Frankly, it had looked ridiculous, like some feeble attempt by someone short to look bigger. She blinked and suddenly laughed. Of course. The heels. The hair. Got it. Everything about this appearance was supposed to make her look more intimidating after a fashion. On a silly whim she glowered at herself and nearly jumped back! Whatever this was, it worked. 

Now for more serious matters. The crystals were obviously an embodiment of her power and will. Could she just make them automatically like she had just known how to transform? She put her fingertips together as she had seen Will do and concentrated. Nothing. She tried again, focusing harder on the goal of the exercise. Still nothing. And then she felt a vague, dark stirring.

Knowledge…go where there is knowledge…

The entire contents of the bookshelf was on the floor in short order and Sarah sat in the middle of the heap poring over all of them, skimming, referencing, almost feverish, until she came to what she was looking for. She felt her face blanch as she read the page and suddenly slammed the book shut. She knew enough but she actually feared what might happen to her if she kept going! She quickly brushed the thought from her mind and got up again.

Out of nothingness came form from her desire - and in a neat little crystalline package. She balanced options, juggled possibilities and finally let one come to fruition… and all the books were back on the shelves in the blink of an eye. All except the one that had shown her how to do this, which she deliberately hid underneath a large masonry stone in the floor so she wouldn’t be as tempted to read it again. Some things were better left unknown. She swore she heard an eerie chuckle. And it suddenly dawned on her what it was.

“Jareth, you bastard, I know you’re in there somewhere but I’m not going to let you get the best of me!” she screamed at the room, not caring that she sounded crazy. Silence. She was beginning to understand what Will had said about remembering who she was. Something like that was undoubtedly opportunistic and would try to override her at weak moments, and then more and more frequently. She steeled her nerves. There would be no weak moments. She would be in control of herself no matter what. She knew enough to survive now. She just had to keep her cool and stay on task and maybe she would live to see the end of this catastrophe. She strode to the door and, upon opening it, she heard the goblin horde in it’s full anarchy below.

“They’re only goblins, they’re only goblins…” she said to herself, trying not to grimace at the mess that no doubt awaited her as she descended the long, spiral staircase.

She failed to see the faint, ghastly grin in the mirror…


	3. Meet the New Boss, Same as the Old Boss

The Throne Room was about as bad as Sarah had expected and then some. It was worse because the bedraggled Goblin Army - what was left that hadn’t deserted to go hide - had come back and the whole room was full of squabbling goblins, some nursing wounds, some bickering about who was less tough, and some openly fighting with weapons just for the heck of it because they were disappointed that the contest had been dispatched so quickly! Sarah had to fight back the urge to run away herself - they had been chasing her less than five hours ago - and instead contemplated their condition, knowing logically that none would dare lay a finger on her now.

She now knew instinctively that they were practically immortal, but, man alive, what an existence! She was beginning to have an odd feeling of pity for her ‘subjects’. They had all once been human children and in a manner still acted like it. They were grotesque, filthy, and spoke a strange pidgin dialect somewhere between English and what sounded almost like Japanese. What this rabble desperately needed was a good, strong leader, one that would actually take care of them, one that wouldn’t add more poor souls to their number. It was with this attitude that Sarah calmly crossed the room and, with a sudden adrenaline rush, sat down on the throne. As she did so, one by one they gradually stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at her, equal parts amazed and terrified. The Goblin King had survived!!! Something was different but even the brightest among them failed to place it, the enchantment on Sarah was so strong. They saw her as Jareth, as they had seen all those who had come before her, as they had seen that first foul little imp. Once she had the room’s attention she addressed them, feeling her power surge a little for the first time, almost like a cue of how to handle the situation. She inwardly smiled.

“I must say, I am gravely disappointed in all of you this day, but since I’d rather not have the whole castle and town reeking of Bog, bring me the dwarf Hoggle immediately. And if any of you harm him in any way, you had better hope you can swim.” 

As one they made a rush for the exits and the room emptied. It was oddly satisfying watching them run from her just once more. On an instinctual impulse she reclined sideways in the throne, just as if she had been doing it her entire life. Granted it actually was more comfortable but the thought that so much of what she was doing already was unconsciously automatic was rather unsettling. She watched a black chicken leisurely amble its way across the room. The others could be food at any moment but this one was someone’s pet. She just knew. It was an equally unsettling thought that one of those creatures was actually willing and able to look after another living being voluntarily. 

A vulture eyed her briefly from one of the small, glassless round windows. The quiet made her suddenly lonely. She thought again of William. How had he ever managed to occupy himself to keep from going crazy here? He had to have had a hobby of some kind, one that would have consumed centuries of time. Something to do with the outlying maze, perhaps? It was the first time since the transformation that she had considered its nature and found the concept of figuring out how it really worked seductively compelling, an idea that could actually keep her well occupied. If she could…

NO! She had to stay focused on what she was doing here. She sighed. Upon reflection, she could’ve just spirited Hoggle here but she had already decided to exercise her power as little as possible so she wouldn’t get used to having it - or, rather, so it wouldn’t get used to having her. The less chances she gave that thing, the better. Besides, obtaining her liberty was something that probably wouldn’t happen quickly anyway. It would have to be carefully planned out. She couldn’t just rush home. 

Sarah was overcome by the sudden overwhelming urge to look in on her father and stepmother and Toby using one of the crystals to scry but quickly squashed the idea. Using this to spy on people was just plain creepy and, besides, she probably wouldn’t like what she saw at the moment. They were probably worried sick and had reported her to the police as a runaway by now but the situation couldn’t be helped. She’d be lucky if she could make it back during their lifetimes. And to get back she had something downright bizarre to figure out.

How could Sir Didymus become king? The thought was totally preposterous but she knew William was right. He really was the perfect candidate. A true knight in honor, bravery, and chivalry, Didymus seemed an odd match for this world. Even with his ego, his general goodness and intelligence made him stick out like a sore thumb. Had he always lived here? Or had he been tricked into coming, as was obviously the case for many others? Perhaps Hoggle would know. At any rate, she needed the dwarf’s help. In spite of his cowardly, pragmatic nature, he understood this place and seemingly everyone in it. An insider’s opinion would be of great value at the present. Perhaps it would give her an idea as how to get the ball rolling. Or the crystal, as it were, she thought as she remembered the one that had rolled past her in that dark tunnel. And she couldn’t let Jareth get in the way.

There was a sudden commotion coming from the hallway. They must’ve found him near the city! A phalanx of goblins burst into the room and promptly heaved a hogtied Hoggle to the masonry stones at her feet. He was blindfolded and gagged as well but, fortunately for her retainers, he didn’t have a single scratch.

“Good work. All of you get out. I want to deal with him privately,” she said brusquely and they instantly complied, relieved that the entire army had gotten a scapegoat. Sarah bent down and undid his blindfold. His eyes were big as dinner plates and she instantly regretted scaring him so badly, but this had to look believable for everyone else. She carefully untied his gag and now he just looked up at her, puzzled at how gently he was being handled, certain the worst was yet to come and about ready to soil him drawers. He was a traitor and everyone knew it. It had to be why he was here in this state. No amount of pleading would save him now; he was simply awaiting his punishment in silence and the suspense was driving him crazy. Jareth seemed to be trying to make up his mind as to what to do with him, which was a very bad sign considering how instantly decisive the king was usually.

Sarah helped him sit up so he could see her properly and looked into his enormous grey eyes in earnest.

“Hoggle, it’s me.”

Now he really looked confused.

“Of c-c-course it’s y-you, yer Highness.”

Sarah was suddenly afraid. If she couldn’t make him recognize her, she didn’t have a prayer! What if… She had never consciously fought this spell but there was a first time for everything. She closed her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could stand on who she used to be: just plain old Sarah Williams, only fifteen years old, living with her parents, going to school, playing dress-up, playing with her sheepdog, and as she did this she began to feel her appearance slowly changing. This, of course did not go unchallenged. Jareth was absolutely furious with her and was desperately trying to lure her back with feelings of absolute power and freedom and immortality. Not to mention trying to break her concentration with brute force and physical pain. It was like a titanic game of tug-o-war with her own body in the middle. She knew she couldn’t hold out much longer and, to the best of her control, brought back the current stasis rather than risk losing her personality in the heavy backlash that had been looming at any second. She was totally exhausted and panting from the exertion when she opened her eyes. Hoggle was openly gawking with his jaw on the floor.

“Sarah?” he barely dared to whisper.

“Yes.” Without another word she made the rest of his bonds vanish and he ran into her outstretched arms as she fell to her knees. “I’m so sorry I had to scare you!”

“Oh, it’s nothin’, missy,” he said a bit gruffly, ruffled at the sudden emotional outburst. “Anything less woulda looked mighty suspicious for that crowd.” He pulled away and looked her up and down, shaking his head in wonder. “Never woulda known it was you. That’s an awfully powerful spell you’re wearin’. How did you ever defeat Jareth? I assume that’s what happened or ya wouldn’t be here in yer current condition.” 

Sarah went to answer him and found that her vocal chords wouldn’t work! She tried and tried to say what happened but her own body was fighting her! Hoggle quickly surmised what was happening and motioned for her to stop, nodding sympathetically. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time he shut somebody up. Figures he’d do it at the end. You can talk as long as we don’t discuss it, right?” 

She sighed. “That would seem to be the case.” Sarah thought a moment. “What do I look like to you? Is there anything that looks even vaguely different? I have to at least look female!” 

The dwarf frowned. “Hard ta say. I always figured Jareth was one o’ them creatures what could change their appearance. Got bored with how he looked every couple a centuries and changed it up a bit-” He suddenly stopped mid-thought and slapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide with the realization of the truth and Sarah nodded very slightly, as much as she dared. “Mercy me.” 

“Hoggle, you’re here because I need you.”

“Anything, Missy!”

“That’s ‘Your Majesty’ to you!” the Goblin Queen snapped. The words were out of Sarah’s mouth almost before she realized that she had blurted them and it was her turn to look surprised! 

Hoggle had jumped a bit when it happened, but upon seeing her own reaction he had a sneaking suspicion that there was a lot more going on here than met the eye. He scrutinized her a moment. Yes it was there, along with his friend. What he had always taken to be Jareth was layered on top of Sarah, almost mixed in, and the thought was definitely unnerving. Best to play this on the safe side.

“Yer Majesty…” he addressed her with just the slightest rueful smile as Sarah turned bright red in humiliation, nodding, closing her eyes for a moment as she sat back down on the throne. 

“Hoggle, how much do you know about Sir Didymus?”

The dwarf blinked. “Not that much, I’ll admit. Want me to go get him for ya?”

“No! It’s imperative that he doesn’t know about this beforehand or the whole thing will fail!”

Hoggle looked supremely suspicious. “What exactly are you thinkin’ about, yer Majesty?”

Sarah leaned forward and motioned him close. “Didymus has to become king,” she whispered. 

Hoggle gave one guffaw in spite of himself. “You’ve gotta be joking!” She wasn’t smiling. “You ain’t joking!”

“Hoggle, I got to talk to William briefly and he seemed to think that Didymus might be able to break this vicious cycle if anybody here could. I know it sounds crazy but the more I think about it I’m afraid he might’ve been right. I think he had been considering it himself but ran out of time.”

“Who’s William?”

Sarah went to answer and once again had magical laryngitis, which was an answer by itself. Hoggle simply nodded. The last king, had to be. William, eh?

“But in order to do that he has to wish someone away and run the Labyrinth and, frankly, I can’t even begin to think how this is going to work!” 

The dwarf sat back on his heels and scratched the stubble on his chin, narrowing his eyes in thought. He hadn’t been Jareth’s toadie for centuries for nothing. He didn’t pride himself on the fact anymore but he had plenty of experience being a snake in the grass, a tattler, a false beacon of hope for dozens of runners, misleading them as the king saw fit and reaping the material rewards there were to be gained by doing this. Didymus had to have a weak spot, a foible - everyone did - but what? The little canine’s conduct was pretty much flawless; Sarah was right on that account. Perhaps getting just a touch senile…no, not senile enough for that, he mused. Maybe they could talk the thing out.

“Well, here’s what I do know about ‘im. He showed up here about, oh, what would it be? Six, seven centuries ago, lookin’ for a quest. Lookin’ for work was more the shape of it. He flat-out refuses to talk about his life before he came here but I think he was in trouble somehow ‘cause he always refused to be paid for his services in lieu of …well… I never found out. He kept comin’ away from the castle time and again looking awfully disappointed. And it wasn’t like Jar- the Goblin King was shafting him. He was always favored by the crown - whoever wore it, actually, come to think of it. Between you and me, I think what he wanted the King would’ve gladly given him except he couldn’t. He was finally knighted instead - public affair, only one in the realm - and that was the end of that. Still got assignments but less as the years went by. Didy just refuses to own up to his age and kept begging for dangerous work. He was finally farmed out to the Bog when his nose went. Gave him a sense of something to do without actually putting him in harm’s way. Probably the most decent thing the Goblin King ever did. Don’t ever mention that to him, though.”

Sarah laughed, nodding; he was vain about that. She suddenly stopped short. Did Didymus worry about that? Was that the Achilles heel that would throw a monkey wrench into the whole plan? Hopefully complete cheerful denial of a problem was enough to offset the threat of the spell. She shook it off, noting Hoggle’s concern.

“Oh, just thinking about something that probably won’t be a problem. But speaking of problems, what would really be helpful here is Didymus’ problems, things that annoy him. Can you think of any reason he would ever get upset enough to blurt precisely what I need him to blurt without thinking in a hissy-fit? I know it works; that’s what happened to me.”

“Happens to most people.” It wasn’t a bad idea. The one thing working against the miniature knight was his temper, which was considerable once provoked. Sometimes he’d actually get so worked up over something he’d start barking! Hoggle gasped. Of course!

“Ambrosius!” 

“Didymus’ badly abused sheep dog? What about him?”

“What about him?! What’s not about him! Yeah, Didy tries ta ride the thing, has that fancy saddle and all, but Ambrosius is the worst mount in the world! Doncha remember? Nine times out of ten if there’s any danger at all, he rears and leaves Didymus high and dry ta fend for himself on foot! I’ve heard the knight lose his temper with that cowardly beast more times than I can remember! It was practically an ongoing joke in the Goblin Army’s barracks for years, which is saying something for them. I’ve tried ta talk him into just keeping the dog as a pet but he’ll have none of it. He’s determined to ride that filthy mongrel until he breaks his neck!”

Wishing away Ambrosius?! It was about the most absurd idea Sarah had ever heard of. And at the same time she knew that, in all probability, it was the only viable option. It had to be someone Didymus knew and liked well enough to stake his life for. His ‘steed’ was obvious. A service animal that was that unserviceable and was still kept had to be loved. Sarah felt like a rat for what she was considering undertaking here but, really, she didn’t have much of a choice. Sir Didymus was a good friend and she would be betraying his trust by doing this. And she was coercing Hoggle into helping her to do it. The dwarf noted her change in mien. 

“Feelin’ low?”

She nodded.

“I can’t tell ya how glad I am that you ain’t used to it.”

“I will be if we don’t hurry,” she whispered, shifting uncomfortably, feeling Jareth stir at the prospect of making the life of the 517th runner living hell in a myriad of creative ways. 

Hoggle drew back a bit. Whatever this was, it was obviously all Sarah could do to keep it in check. He wouldn’t always be able to trust to her good nature if the current state of affairs was as it seemed. 

“Don’t worry, yer Majesty. We’ll get you outta this,” he said gravely. “Now, what you need ta do is get me to him. Gettin’ under his skin should be easy after that.”

“I haven’t transported anyone before.”

“It looked easy when…William did it. He just said where I needed to go or who I needed ta be with and tossed me a crystal and wham! I was there.” 

Sarah had her trepidations but it sounded straightforward enough and she wasn’t about to dig that infernal tome back out. She willed a crystal into being, the possibility of traveling from point A to point B, with this being point A. 

“Hoggle, go to Didymus, but just far enough away that it looks like you happened upon him yourself,” she said and, practically praying that it would work right, tossed the crystal to the dwarf, who caught it and vanished right on cue. She instantly had another on her fingertips and collapsed into the back of the throne in relief when she saw he had gotten there in one piece, with Sir Didymus just a little ways off. 

The game had begun.


	4. Well-Meaning Machinations

Hoggle started a bit from the slight shock of suddenly being somewhere else but it was a sensation he was definitely used to by now and he shook it off quickly, trying to ascertain where he’d landed. He was a little uneasy at the prospect of being back in the forest, even with the little knight, because there was no way of telling which side of the Great Goblin Wall they were on at present and that could make a huge difference in terms of how safe they were. 

Sir Didymus was dismounted in a small clearing a few yards off but in plain sight, seemingly in the act of trying to get his ‘steed’ to graze properly. Ambrosius was having none of it and presently ran off to chase a squirrel-like creature. Didymus whistled after him.

“Ambrosius, heel!” The sheepdog stopped running but still didn’t come; he merely stared back, torn between doing what he wanted and what his master commanded. The knight sighed, shaking his head in tired irritation. Hoggle knew this would be painfully easy; he only needed to stick around for the opportune moment. The dwarf swaggered on over, forcing a little lip smile. He still felt like dirt for doing this but for once it was actually for a decent cause. Sir Didymus heard someone coming and turned around. His remaining eye widened in surprised delight. 

“Sir Hoggle! Well met, indeed! It is good to see you again so soon, and in one piece, no less, especially considering that fall!” Hoggle blushed a little, then tried to cover it by  
sounding brusque.

“I got a tough hide and tougher bones. It’d take a lot more than a fall ta break me!” He guffawed just a little for good measure. “So…headin’ back to yer post via the scenic route, huh?”

It was Didymus’ turn to look a little sheepish. “To be truthful, Sir Hoggle, I hadn’t entirely made up my mind on that point. About returning, I mean. Perhaps ‘tis finally time for me to move on, to find another sorcerer to work for. I’m afraid I may have just worn out my welcome here”

“You, afraid? Never! But I’ll walk with ya to the entrance gate, all the same. That’s where I’m headed.”

“That’s very kind of you, Sir Hoggle. Ambrosius, come!” Ambrosius, who finally took the hint that his master was leaving whether he came or not, obediently trotted back over. “That’s better.” With a little yell, Sir Didymus vaulted easily onto his ‘steed’s’ back and in no time they were all winding their way through the meandering footpaths of the Firey Forest. Those paths were made by them. 

The wrong side of the wall, Hoggle thought, starting to glance about with more than just a little trepidation. The Fireys honestly meant no one harm but they were wild and played far too rough for physical safety, even accidentally killing people by decapitation on occasion. And they attacked everyone who came through their part of the forest. “Hey, uh, you know you can ride a little faster if ya want; I can keep up. The sooner we’re through here the better. This part of the forest has always given me the creeps.” Didy’s leisurely pace was doing nothing to help the dwarf’s nerves.

“Tut, tut! I have ridden these paths a thousand times and never been bothered beyond a ‘how-do-you-do’.” But he paused, bringing up Ambrosius and giving the air a few vain sniffs. “Although I’ve never been here so late in the day…” He kicked Ambrosius’ sides and got off to a decent quick-trot and Hoggle nearly had to run to keep up, grateful that the little knight had deigned to countenance their imminent danger. 

Didymus had always had a bad habit of thinking he could leap into any fray and walk away unscathed. Perhaps he was finally having second thoughts. But even at their accelerated rate of progress, they couldn’t possibly get through before the sky fully darkened; the sun had already gone down. The forest shadows deepened and strange birds began to call at intervals. There was a little arachnidish scurrying in the undergrowth at times but it was nothing compared to what they were trying to avoid. At last the sky went black. There was the briefest rustling in the trees about them, no other sound.

And the Fireys descended on them, cackling and hollering and wolf-whistling. They were surrounded by dancing, capering, skinny fire-red-and-orange creatures who, while not being much bigger than Hoggle in stature, were capable of quite a lot more damage. As usual, one struck a bonfire so they could properly see who their ‘company’ was and - ostensibly from the reports of those who had survived such an encounter - so the people they played games with (for this was only a game to them) could better see them and their antics and, they hoped, learn to act accordingly. To make matters even worse, at least one of them seemed to remember Didymus.

“Hey, Didy, my main man! How’s it shakin’, yo?” one addressed him, bold as brass, slapping him good-naturedly - and just a little too hard - on the back. It had begun. 

“Things are going tolerably at the moment,” Didymus primly replied, “but we’ve no time for frivolity; my companion and I are journeying to the beginning of the Labyrinth, and from thence I know not where my travails shall take me.”

“Hey, if you don’t know where y’all headed, what’s with the rush to get there?” a different Firey countered.

“Yee-ah, if the destination don’t matter, why not take a load off wit us?” another chimed in.

“You always been too stiff,” they heard a husky Firey bass in the back, “you need to learn to loosen up, bro!”

“We can show you how!”

“It’s easy!”

“Fo’ sho’!”

“You got the time now!”

These creatures weren’t colloquially called The Fire Gang for nothing. They were circling in on their victims, wild-eyed as drug addicts, jabbering pseudo-friendly nonsense and euphemisms about living only in the now, starting to take each other apart in show and putting themselves back together; some had started to sing and drum on any surface, including Didymus’ leather saddle - just a little too close for comfort. Long fingers were beginning to reach for them. Ambrosius was definitely shaking in his little furry boot by this time and probably would have bolted except there was no place to escape.

“Calm yourself, Ambrosius,” Sir Didymus addressed him quietly and placidly, “these hooligans are no match for the likes of us!” Ambrosius clearly didn’t believe him at all and Hoggle seemed to be having similar sentiments although he was hiding it better, his big scrutinizing eyes still looking for a break in the line.

After the event, Hoggle could never bet quite certain who had started it. Had Ambrosius tried to run? Had one of the Fireys made the first grasp at Didymus, or had he swung his staff prematurely at them in preparation of defense? It was a pointless piece of conjecture, really, because within the next two seconds there was sheer pandemonium, a fight as ridiculous as it was dire. Sir Didymus was fast and agile in spite of his age, but he was severely outnumbered and few of his blows were landing. The dwarf, on the other hand, was fairing a little better, being slightly larger than his current companion and sturdily built, but still there were far too many of them; more were coming at the sound of the ruckus, dropping out of the trees screeching and hollering. Punches were flying, as were Firey body parts, but they were reassembling themselves in midair and coming back for more. Any minute now one of them would think of fighting with fire and it would all be over. And, just when it couldn’t possibly get worse, Ambrosius reared, bucking off Didymus as per usual, and tore off through the underbrush for safety, leaving his rider in a mound of Fireys that were literally trying to rip him apart, jabbering nonsense at him, cackling wildly all the while. Hoggle somehow managed to shove his way through to him again and together, alone, they fought the oncoming horde back-to-back.

It didn’t take a psychology degree to deduce that Didymus was pissed and just distracted enough that the ‘king’s’ scheme might actually work; he’d been barking excitedly for about a minute now, something he was normally too self-conscious to do in a more composed frame of mind. Hoggle momentarily reflected with a twinge of irony that the previous Jareths had allotted him hazard pay for placing himself in dangerous circumstances like this; the job had not entirely been without its perks. But his was for Sarah; that was payment enough. He took a deep breath as one of his punches connected with another head, sending it flying.

“Doncha - ever wish that you could - be rid of - that stupid mongrel?” he gasped out, ripping a randomly separated hand off his throat.

“Sometimes I do indeed! Cowardly, shaming beast!” Didymus rejoindered, freeing his left arm by biting his opponent while other tried to wrench his staff from him.

“Like, wish the - goblins would take - him - away?” Another Firey got an elbow to the chest, but Hoggle made the mistake of trying to kick one and they caught his foot, threatening to topple him.

“Right this instant!”

There was an immediate lightning bolt and clap of thunder directly overhead; the Fireys froze, listening, then instinctively took to the trees and tore off into the forest, screaming like a flock of frightened birds. Didymus turned to Hoggle slowly, catching his breath, shell-shocked at what had just passed between them.

“Hoggle,” he whispered, looking supremely lost, “what hast thou done?!”  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Sarah felt the summons instantly, as surely as if she had just been struck by the lightning she had heard fall off in the distance. An odd, dark joy surged within her as she effortlessly shifted back into her owl form and took off through the open window.  
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Hoggle was feeling mighty low as he rubbed his aching arms and neck; the verbal abuse that was being heaped upon him at present was entirely deserved - he had just sold out his friend. He only hoped that ‘Jareth’ wouldn’t take his time in getting here.

He didn’t have to wait long; the ominous white owl was already flapping its way into the clearing and transformed in a dazzling electrical display into the Goblin King. Even knowing it was Sarah in there, it just astounded him that he couldn’t see her past the glamour. That was one heck of a spell.

The ego-rush that always seemed to accompany these metamorphoses had taken Sarah’s brain by storm, and she was so caught up in the glory of the aftermath that it didn’t even strike her as strange that she knew so much about the little knight.

“Sire,” Didymus addressed her gravely, bowing with his hat removed.

“It is indeed an unexpected pleasure to find you come to your senses at last, Sir Didymus,” the king warmly greeted him, “but this is no place for such an interview. If you forfeit, come to the castle with me now and re-swear your fealty to me in the presence of the Goblin Army, you can have your pick of any saetasaurus in the stables regardless of who it currently belongs to. Having you off that filthy mutt of yours and on a proper, reliable mount is sufficient payment for your recent incursion of my displeasure. You have served me too long and too well to have your career end in so ignominious a fashion.”

“Begging your indulgence but a moment longer, Sire,” Didymus spoke elegantly but a bit tersely, standing up straight, “I merely desire to confirm that this was in fact a setup.”

Jareth’s gaze swung over to the dwarf. “Yes, and he executed it adequately enough, although I’m garnishing his wage this time. This was his test of fealty, you see; if he could betray his recent confederate in the name of my service, he could have his job back. Really, this one should be doing laps in the Bog, but frankly it’s next-to-impossible to find even a moderately competent gardener in these parts. Your duties resume immediately upon our departure, Hogwort.”

Hoggle didn’t even bristle at the callous mispronunciation of his name; Sarah was doing a splendid job of mimicking the king. Guess those acting skills were coming in handy after all.

While Jareth had been speaking, Sir Didymus had been screwing up his nerve to do something he had never dared to do before, and in the face of so generous an offer of full pardon

“I…” he faltered for a moment, then steadied himself. “I cannot accept your terms, gracious as they are, Sire. I must have Ambrosius back.”

The king scrutinized him. “It is ill-advised for you to challenge your monarch thus, Didymus, especially in light of recent crimes against the Crown which could potentially be expunged otherwise.”

“I understand that, Sire, but surely you remember what Ambrosius truly is…was…what he means to me. In spite of the difficulty of keeping him in this state I have never abandoned him, never given up on the hope…”

Jareth gave a clipped sigh, crossing his arms. “We have been through all of this before. What you ask is far beyond my power to grant even if I wished. You are foolishly clinging to a distant past you cannot possibly re-attain. Accept my terms of pardon quickly before you anger me; I will not offer it again.”

Didymus was torn. On the one hand was Jareth’s familiar favor and the honor bestowed by him, and the rational part of his mind knew that he could not possibly best this wizard-king and it was indeed a fool’s errand to try to. But his heart knew better than his logic.

“I know I have no right to ask you to forgive me, Sire, but I cannot abandon Ambrosius to so hideous a fate. You know that.” He could’ve been imagining it but he was ready to swear that the king stifled the tiniest of smiles before turning stern.

“So be it.”

In a burst of power, they were all standing outside the Labyrinth proper, just beyond the gates. The king gestured and the ceremonial thirteen-hour clock appeared in midair.

“You should know the rules by now. Fail and I’ll have quite an exotic and particularly useless goblin on my hands.” He turned and began to fade as he paced away from them with his hands clasped behind his back. “You should have just surrendered,” his voice echoed, “I would have kept him as a dog myself.”

Sir Didymus canine jaw could have hit the ground. He glanced about for Hoggle and saw him some yards away already, his fairy extermination around the creeping starflowers resumed. Hoggle felt the intense, burning gaze from that little eye and looked back: Didymus was standing akimbo, glaring at him, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Oh, no way - nothin’ doin’, Didy!” he shook his head. “You can stare holes in me but I ain’t helpin’ nobody again - you heard what he said!”

“Sir Hoggle, I fear I must take back what I said about thee. Thou art a craven coward after all,” he glared. Hoggle turned around and resumed his work.

“A coward that doesn’t stink, though.” He pointed at the gates and they opened automatically; Didymus sighed and paced through the portal. “Good luck!” he called after him. No response. 

The doors slammed shut behind him.

Hoggle looked down at the pixie he’d just sprayed and gasped, wide-eyed: even with the pale hair, she looked so much like… He wouldn’t let his mind go there but it was already too late. He buried the delicate little creature with a toe-full of soil, suddenly repulsed by what he had been doing, throwing away the spray can.

“She’s going to need it.”


	5. Life Under Pressure

Sarah reappeared almost instantaneously in the castle in her human form once again. What a rush! She definitely understood how a person could get caught up in this and forget. Of course, what she had returned to was utter chaos: Ambrosius was barking his head off, chasing goblins all over the Throne Room. It looked like they had tried to create a makeshift harness and leash out of a piece of crude rope, but it was only half-attached and he was trailing it behind him.

“Ambrosius, heel!” To her complete surprise, the dog instantly stopped in its tracks and obediently walked over to her, whining. She got down on her knees and let him sniff her. “It’s okay, boy, I’m right here, I won’t let them hurt you,” she soothed him, stroking his head; he licked her gloved hand. He reminded her so much of her family sheepdog Merlin it was uncanny.

Home. The memory felt strange, distant. This place could be her home if she chose. No more powerless, lonely days. She had subjects here but she also had friends, real friends that genuinely cared about her. It was sorely tempting…

No! She had to stay focused! 

With the dog under control, the goblins had reverted to their standard modus operandi: squabbling and gibbering amongst themselves, eating goodness-knows-what, drinking what smelled like some kind of ale from a keg in the corner, periodically harassing each other, the king’s presence forgotten for the moment. Sarah sighed. At least they were all in one place where she could keep an eye on them. 

“Come on, boy,” she said quietly, leading Ambrosius upstairs to the bedroom. Once inside, she closed and bolted the door, then summoned Hoggle - he appeared with a slight jump, taken by surprise.

“Yer Majesty!”

Sarah rushed over, as did the dog, but she kept him from jumping on the dwarf. “Are you okay? I saw the Fireys come after you but I wasn’t sure I could intervene properly without giving you away! I wanted to!”

Hoggle blushed slightly, brushing off her concern. “Oh, I’s fine, mis-Yer Majesty,” he caught himself in time, then thought to observe her. Her manner of walking, her movements seemed…different, more regal, more self-assured, almost a little vain. But there was more than that. Her concern about the situation seemed already forgotten; she had formed a crystal and was pacing, watching Sir Didymus making his way through the outer corridors of the stone maze. A part of Sarah that was not Sarah reflected that the little knight had not seen this section at all in several centuries but he was reasonably familiar with the paths farther in; she had to make things more interesting for him. 

Hoggle didn’t care for that evil little lip smile she was suddenly sporting. He knew what it was. 

“Ya shouldn’t watch him so closely, yer Majesty; he’ll feel yer attention.”

Sarah closed her eyes. “I guess you’re right. Isolation seems to be part of the challenge, after all,” she pronounced, and was about to extinguish the crystal when she suddenly had an idea. “Would you mind if I send you to the hedge maze?”

“Not at all. I was gettin’ a little sick of killing fairies, anywho. A bit of honest pruning will be a nice change.”

Sarah tossed him the crystal without another word and he caught it, vanishing again. Ambrosius jumped up on the bed and lay down, resting his head on his paws. She went over and shooffed his shaggy head, then began to manually remove the elaborate, showy heraldic saddle; the dog got up and stretched in relief once it was off before settling back down, leaning against her. Sarah almost didn’t notice him; she was lost in thought. Hoggle was right about Didymus not belonging here, that much she knew, but where he came from and why was a complete mystery. She felt more than heard the dark whispering begin again but quickly willed it silent, pleased that she could do this, and calmed Ambrosius once more; he had literally begun to shake at Jareth’s presence…  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Sir Didymus was an optimist by nature, not experience, and once he had shaken off the shock of what was going on, he had thoroughly enjoyed the brisk walk and the change in scenery, as well as the chance to hone his long-neglected tracking skills. Completely unbeknownst to Sarah, she had left something of an obvious trail through the dirty debris of the outer hall and Didymus’ sharp good eye picked it out instantly; he successfully followed it and entered the outer stone maze. Unfortunately for him, this also included making the same error in judgment his immediate predecessor had, albeit with even less information to go by. He briefly felt someone watching him but ran into no one.

Only a few steps into the new section, his ears perked up. He realized that he could faintly detect the stone walls moving, the shifts so swift and clean they made just the slightest shuffling noise now and again. The sound was coming more frequently from a certain direction and he headed toward it.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Slightly bored and with nothing to do but wait - she couldn’t seem to concentrate well enough to read - Sarah was exploring what little there was of the castle. For all the outer defenses and extended fortressing surrounding it, the Castle Beyond the Goblin City really wasn’t that large or impressive once inside. The King’s Chamber and a short hallway leading to the ‘Escher Room’ were al that was on the second floor. Tentatively apprehensive, she quickly discovered that she could walk on all the surfaces in the latter, but the effort was apparently futile for none of them led anywhere. In fact, the room seemed to wormhole in on itself - how odd. She successfully exited, though, once she actually wanted to. 

The first floor’s main attraction was, sadly, the Throne Room, such as it was, which she managed to sneak past without being noticed. It didn’t really make any difference where she was right now; goblins did what they did mostly with callous disregard to anyone, and Ambrosius was safe for the moment, sacked out on her mattress, dead exhausted. She’d have to provide him with food and water somehow but thankfully not right away. 

The flight of stairs leading down ended in total darkness. Sarah gulped and grabbed a torch off the wall; if she was really ruler here there should be nothing she need fear, but that blackness still made her nervous. Almost without thinking, a crystal appeared in her left hand, ready to become whatever she might need…and then the answer occurred to her: a sleep spell, not the hundred-year variety, just something to temporarily knock out anything that might be hiding down there long enough for her to look around. She held the crystal up to her face and blew it away like a bubble; it floated on down the stairs and around the corner to the left and she followed it into the dank gloom.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Didymus had been right to follow the sound of the walls; he had correctly remembered that the most frequent changes always occurred around the points that led to the next section over. He was currently trapped but was satisfied to be so; the Guardians of the Hedge Maze stood before him.

“Sir Didymus!” they had saluted as one, surprised by his presence; the exploits of Sir Didymus the Sojourner were legendary.

“At your ease,” he promptly excused them of their difficult pose; the upside-down creatures stiffly got down, their upright counterparts resting their heavy shields on the ground in obvious relief.

“Bless you, Sir Knight,” said old Alph Blueshield in his peculiar brogue, “you’ve no idea how long we’ve been standing like that with no further orders or even a change of guard!”

“It is not our place to question His Majesty’s choices in defense policy,” Didymus automatically began to reprimand their weak-willed determination, then remembered his own place in this situation. Specifically where he was not, where he should be right now. Goodness knows what ruffians could be encroaching on his previously well-guarded footbridge even as they spoke. Well, footpath now really…

For a moment Didymus was ashamed: he had just let a long-standing friendship come between him and his king and country and now he had to abide the consequence.

“What ails ye, Sir Knight? Surely not weakness of heart or limb?” Ralph Redcrest asked, peering from behind his shield at the diminutive, crestfallen figure.

“Envy me no longer, my fellow countrymen; I undergo The Great Trial and I’ve no time to waste in pleasantries.”

There were shocked looks all round.

“Ya know we can’t help ye,” apologized Jim the Red.

“I would consider you even more traitorous curs than I if you did,” was the crisp, bold reply. The sentiment was appreciated but honesty had to be above all in this; his conduct had to be irreproachable. Didymus knew there was a way through, but what was it? Had he ever known? His liege lord had always delighted in logic puzzles as wizards often did; all of his direct challenges were technically surmountable, but such intellect was scarce. In retrospect, even his most recent oath had contained a subtle, built-in loophole. There was a trick to this living riddle in particular, but he only vaguely remembered, something the king had once alluded to in a rare moment of good-humored jest at banquet, something about a question that forced both guards to tell the truth about what lay behind the doors they were sentry over. Didymus could not even conceive of such a question but Lady Sarah must have. The sudden thought cut him to the quick - young Lady Sarah! Whatever had become of her? Had she failed in the end? Was she still there?! Sir Didymus quickly brought his racing thoughts to rein. He could ask the king himself in a few hours. One thing was becoming very clear, though: he had no time to waste here. He instinctively chose a door strictly by livery color - red, the color of the Goblin Kingdom. Ralph Redcrest shuffled aside to let him pass as the door opened; all were silent as it closed.

The place Didymus had just walked into was pitch black.

“I say, does anyone have a light?” he called out; his voice echoed as if in a closed chamber.

Two large, red eyes opened on the far side of the room.


	6. What Lies Below

The dungeons of the Goblin Castle were roughly three times the size of the structure sitting above them and far dirtier and moldier. In spite of the size, from what Sarah could see, most of the simple-barred cells were currently vacant, although there were skeletons in several - goblin, human, and one that took her breath away: a medium-sized dragon! It just barely fit in the room it was locked in, with its long tail curled around its body. The place reeked almost as bad as the Bog farther in - her eye suddenly picked up on movement in the very back of the room. She froze instinctively; even in spite of the spell, whatever was back there was strong enough to stir in its sleep. Just taking a couple steps closer, she held the torch high to get a better look. The form was mostly indistinct as it lay in repose but the size, even partially curved away, was definitely intimidating. Information crowded her brain before she had a chance to object: it stood nearly twenty feet high and had the strength of as many men. It had immense sharp-spiraled horns like an ibex and masses of long, thick black fur, which currently enshrouded it. It had been a terror in the Labyrinth, had somehow wandered in from the outside world, had caused destruction in its wake and indiscriminately killed goblins - something even Jareth couldn’t stand for. Many lives were lost before the beast was captured, and Jareth had shorn it himself and made a cloak of its fur in lieu of a trophy. Clearly it had all grown back. He was letting it die slowly out of spite and a petty, self-flattering sense of having avenged something. 

The beast rolled over, facing her now. One large eye opened languidly in her direction - it glowed a bright cobalt blue - then closed again.

Let sleeping monsters lie…

For once she had to agree with him as she quickly exited the dungeon.  
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If Didymus had had any sense of smell at all, he would have already been knocked over by the stench of death. His remaining eye slowly adjusted to the darkness; it wasn’t total but it was hard to say where that faint glow was leaking in from. Besides the eyes of the Minotaur, of course.

The abomination was a relic of an earlier age, predating even the colonization of the Labyrinth and the coming of the King, its lewd and profane origins buried in antiquity. Jareth had initially kept it as his first standing threat against disobedience, then as a historical curiosity and a hazard to the runners - it was an easy way to feed it. He had even been known to send off a branch of the army as a hunting party to track down big game for it if no one had accidentally stumbled into its lair for a while, but the large apelike creatures they used to give it were becoming scarce. Once in a great while a goblins or two would to missing very quietly, but privately Jareth loathed having to sacrifice his minions to any cause but his own. Over time he began to neglect the monster, sometimes even forgetting to feed it at all. It had been out of mind for some time now - it probably shouldn’t have even been alive - but here it was, larger than life and bellowing in hunger when it caught scent of Sir Didymus. 

It rushed him headfirst like the bull its father was, but Sir Didymus easily darted out of the way, straight between the monster’s legs. Fighting an entire mob single-handedly may have appealed to his ego slightly, but duels to the death were his forte; he had yet to lose, after all. Honorably facing and dispatching a scurrilously dishonorable opponent was even better; it smacked of chivalry. Didymus recklessly charged at his enemy, prepared this time, and hung on for dear life, peppering the monster with blows wherever he could reach him, daring to climb higher as the Minotaur tried to grasp for him with his large, humanesque hands; it had been a long time since his food had tried to fight back. The knight had gained the beast’s shoulders and was currently attempting to knock him unconscious (he would have much preferred swordplay but he had been forbidden by the king to even carry one for years, a questionable sentiment about him being too dangerous) when his opponent finally caught hold of him. The monster tried to crush his windpipe but got bitten instead; it howled in pain, dropping him. Didymus spit on the ground - the creature tasted terrible - and quickly plotted his next move as the monster came at him again, truly angry now.

“Not had enough, eh? Come and get me!” he taunted it, dashing away in a feigned retreat, then veering sharply left, gauging how long it took the Minotaur to stop. His naked torso had felt emaciated with exposed ribs but it didn’t seem to have diminished its strength much. Correction - the malnutrition made its reflexes a bit slow. Good, he could work with that. Didymus took a flying leap right past its face, narrowly escaping the monster’s sharp teeth, baiting it to give chase, dashing for the back wall, only turning away to the right at the last possible second. As he hoped, the Minotaur plowed straight into the wall before seeing its blunder but, to Sir Didymus’ horror, it was so tough it didn’t even fall; it just grunted and shook its head clear before resuming. 

Under normal circumstances, Sir Didymus would have easily had plenty of stamina to spare, but deprived of his mount as he had been the past few hours and having traipsed a long and weary mile by foot unaccustomed, the miniature knight was already starting to flag a little and knew he had to watch himself; he had to end it quickly. Above such things on principle, he reflected that in a true life-and-death scenario with a senseless beast other rules applied, and he only winced slightly when he tripped the monster with his staff. If he could only get him stationary long enough…

He misjudged which way the Minotaur would fall, however, and with a sickening crunch (which was luckily no part of him) he heard his staff break in two under the beast’s right leg. The monster was instantly scrabbling back to his feet, but, in a moment of sheer brilliance, Didymus grabbed one of the larger wooden shards, ignoring the splinters that cruelly dug into his paw, and, leaping fearlessly onto his enemy, drove the jagged point deep into the neck artery. The Minotaur roared, automatically bucking so hard that it threw Didymus clear across the room and into the stone wall. The world went completely dark and still.

When Didymus came to, it took him a second to remember where he was. Even more confounding, light was streaming in from the open door to his right and a human-sized figure stood in it.

“Even in your one treasonous act, you continue to provide me immeasurable service,” the Goblin King remarked, shaking his head almost in disbelief at the tableau. To Didymus’ amazement, he came in and actually helped him to his feet; the knight dug a few splinters out of his gloved paw with his teeth. “I had been trying to forget that wretched thing was in here. It simply wasn’t worth the trouble it was to look after it anymore,” he stated pointedly. “We all outgrow certain hobbies.”

Sir Didymus’ hackles raised briefly at the casual flippancy with which his monarch was so obviously insinuating he should do the same with a certain beast.

“Do not speak so of such a good-hearted animal as Ambrosius in the same context as that…thing,” Didymus spat in disgust, glancing behind him - and finally got a good look at what he’d just killed. The monster was an albino about seven feet tall and still surprisingly muscled in spite of its forced starvation, the famous bull’s head and tail on the oversized body of a naked man. Didymus reflected that he could’ve taken some rather cheap shots but his honor had prevailed. Turning away from the horror (not just the monster - he could now see that the walls and floor were hopelessly stained with blood and entrails but there wasn’t a single bone in there), he walked out into the sunlight, briefly shielding his eye. The guards were simply dumbfounded. Alph Blueshield was already shuffling aside - the illustrious little knight had clearly won the right to continue through - when the king spoke again.

“Where would you go, even if you succeeded?” 

Didymus stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “I cannot see how that could possibly concern your Majesty any further,” he answered a touch coldly.

“The outside world no longer believes in magic, nor chivalry, nor honoring an oath to the death even for love. You would not find what you seek. Perhaps you could have once, but not now. We are both relics of another time in our own ways,” the king noted a bit wryly. “ I have withstood its passage for over two millennia and I have never seen another man your equal. There it nothing you truly want out there.”

“Pardon my bluntness, your Majesty, but you are stalling me,” the knight observed, turning back around as he began to walk through.

“Watch your first step,” Jareth advised and vanished.

That caught Didymus a bit off-guard. Why in the world was his Majesty trying to help? He belatedly realized he had forgotten to ask about Sarah; he would not be so remiss given the chance again. Nevertheless, taking the odd warning to heart, he pressed along the stones in front of him tentatively with one foot; the first two opened down like trapdoors almost instantly - oubliette opening. He neatly hopped over it and, after only a few turns in the stone passage, came out into the hedge maze. Never in all his life had he been so grateful to see the living green again but he had always thought it a bit sad that there was never any birdsong out here; all that lived in these outer sections were sparse flocks of carrion crows. 

Trusting to his senses again, Sir Didymus followed his ears to a much more mundane sound this time: the snip-snip of a pair of pruning shears. He could scarcely believe that Hoggle had come all this way more quickly than he had, then reflected that the king had often used this old dwarf in the past as a decoy to try to dissuade the runners; bumping into him occasionally was simply part of the course, but Didymus was determined to get some answers out of him this time. He didn’t have far to look: Hoggle was in the large open central section, doing spot-trimming high up on a ladder on a topiary toy soldier, and , in consequence, was visible above the hedge-line.

“Sir Hoggle! A moment, please!” Didymus hailed him while still far off, carefully winding his way over to him. Just as he came into the clearing, the dwarf finished slowly descending the ladder.

“Ya already know I can’t help ya,” Hoggle automatically reminded him, “but considerin’ the fact that you’re already here, I’d say you probably don’t need much. You’re almost on home turf, ain’t ya?”

“Sir Hoggle,” the little knight began sternly, “I know perfectly well thou art in my path for a reason. What does the king seek to accomplish by trying to delude me thus? His majesty was oddly kind to me just a few minutes ago, even in spite of the fact that he was still trying to dissuade me from continuing. Something here simply doesn’t smell right, and I believe thou knowest what it is.”

The dwarf had continued with a little superficial pruning as Didymus talked, and he replied without even turning around to face him.

“Jareth’s probably watchin’ us right now; I felt it ever since you got here. Make like you’re getting nowhere talkin’ to me and I’ll try ta tell ya,” he managed to quietly say without moving his lips too much.

Didymus good eye glittered at the ruse. “I never heard such impudence!” he declared theatrically, crossing his arms and turning his back on him as if mortally insulted. Hoggle stopped snipping for a minute.

“He’s got Sarah.”

“What?!”

“Pipe down!” Hoggle whisper-shouted through his teeth. “That’s about all I can say. I can’t explain it; this whole world would probably come crashing down about our ears. All ya have to do is make it to the center and-” He suddenly stopped. That attention he’d been feeling had just turned icily sinister. “Just get goin’!”

Didymus took off at a run, his fatigue and soreness forgotten. There was for more to this obscure challenge than met the eye it seemed, and, whatever lay at the end of this quest, he had to face it with valor and honor and expose Jareth’s secrets to the bright light of day. It was so strange but the more he thought about it he was starting to get the distinct impression that the king finally wanted his own darkness vanquished and had arranged for his most trusted knight to do the job. Sir Didymus could imagine no higher calling.


	7. Changes

Sarah reappeared in the King’s Chamber, trying to shake the feeling of Jareth; it had been steadily growing stronger with each of these interviews she had to conduct with Didymus. At first, it had simply been easier just letting the information come through than trying to mimic the Goblin King, but the longer it went on it felt almost as if he were actually speaking on his own and the feeling was rather disturbing, the situation beginning to concern her. Could she really go through with this? Was her will really as strong as his or was she just toying with something that could literally take her over like it had taken over William? It was a rather chilling thought but right now she had someone else to worry about. Ambrosius was awake and, after a quick trip outside, she made a filled water dish and some kibble for him. It had taken a surprising amount of concentration to bring something solid into existence but she seemed to have managed it passably without further research. She was growing leery of ‘that book’ - her thoughts kept straying to it almost involuntarily - and she was thankful that it had not been necessary to look at it. After the dog had eaten and she had petted him awhile, Sarah decided that she had been absent from the Throne Room long enough and should probably head back down before they trashed the place completely in her absence. On the way down the staircase she had the strangest feeling though, like there was something she had forgotten, but what she couldn’t tell…  
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After approximately half-an-hour’s sniffing about in vain (darn tricksy shrubbery), Sir Didymus stumbled upon the dividing wall that separated the hedge maze from the first section of the forest and, thankfully, the pair of doors one had to choose between hadn’t varied in centuries. The knight had this intelligence from listening to the patrol guards that Jareth often sent out in to the Labyrinth proper. It was much easier to manipulate the Labyrinth than the landscape it seemed and clearly the king simply couldn’t be bothered at this point; 50/50 odds were difficult enough in his book. So, when the knight beheld those two sturdy portals set into the stone his spirits lifted considerably. The correct door here was always the one to the right! Of course, there was still one annoying minor problem: Didymus only stood at just under three feet high and he couldn’t have reached the knocker even if he still had his staff. Not one to be easily dissuaded (or, indeed, to do anything the easy way when a challenge might prove more personally fulfilling), he quickly clambered up the medium-height oak tree that stood nearby and nimbly danced across the top of the wall until he was positioned right over the door in question. But before jumping, he ventured a glance at the opposite side; to his amazement, it was a perfect mirror image of the hedge maze! He had known of this mirage phenomenon almost since day one of working for His Majesty - it was a standing glamour that was activated if anyone tried to cheat and see further into the maze - but he had never been curious enough to go look for it on purpose. It did throw into stark relief just how eccentric his liege lord was, however, truly viewing this for the first time. He reflected that when he had come to this place he hadn’t been looking for credentials but the potential for magical power in a time of extreme desperation. Wizard kings in general were odd and just a little crazy by all accounts, and he had been initially willing to literally turn his blind eye to all manner of strangeness if only…

He shook himself out of his reverie - there was no time to be wasted in such self-indulgence - and calculated the angle at which he would have to fall. It was a risky move; if he missed he could be knocked unconscious or otherwise seriously injured. The knocker itself had initially been surprised and confused, watching the little knight, but it quickly deduced what he was about and was careful to hold the ring tightly between its lips with an iron - er, bronze - grip. Didymus made a sheer drop and just caught it; the force wrenched his shoulders but he managed to hang on, and, heaving up his legs, walked a few paces up the door for leverage. Banging the ring against the door twice and promptly dropping to the ground, he landed on his feet and dusted off his paws in satisfaction.

It was a very good thing he had let go when he did. Instead of revealing a lush, dark forest, a khaki-green sludge that was all too familiar to him was bubbling just inside the door. Didymus’ jaw dropped in dumbfounded amazement: the bog had been relocated here! This was no mere spillage; the murky swamp lay before him, but dry ground was far on the other side. He spotted his old post out there with a twinge of guilt. The king was no doubt reminding him of the crucial responsibility which he had turned his back on, deliberately using his prior charge to blockade his advance. It wasn’t as outrageous a threat to him as it would have been to practically anyone else for obvious reasons, but, nevertheless, it was an effective deterrent for one simple reason: Didymus had never learned to swim. While he was deliberating the viability of constructing a raft with the scanty materials at hand, the door knockers were being subjected to the bog’s more usual effects.

“PhooEY!” exclaimed the gargoyle with the ring in its ears. “Who lit the sewer on fire?!”

“Fr th lullo eet, lol th go!” screamed the other with the ring in his mouth that impeded his speech.

“I’m so terribly sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Sir Didymus addressed it primly, “couldst thou perhaps speak a bit more distinctly, please?”

The knocker spat the ring out of its mouth; it narrowly missed Didymus’ head as if flew several feet before hitting the ground. “I said, ‘for the love of Pete, close the door!’ I don’t even have lungs and I’m dying of asphyxiation over here!”

“Surely you exaggerate; it isn’t that bad,” Didymus rejoindered, taking a few ineffective sniffs.

“Please! Hurry!”

The other knocker echoed his plaints. Sir Didymus sighed, a little bemused, but nevertheless set about to right the perceived problem. Only, once again, he couldn’t reach the door, and now there was nothing to hang onto. If only he had more time he might be able to rig something up, but from the extreme distress he was witnessing there was clearly none. There was nothing for it.

“Sir Hoggle! Art thou still nearby?” he yelled behind him; the knocker that could also hear might have helped him in calling for help but was currently trying to hold its breath. 

“Yeh! Why?” came the reply a little ways off. “That smell had better not be what I thinks it is.”

Sir Didymus was beginning to take slight umbrage at the abuse being heaped upon the swamp of the Bog but managed to stuff it.

“It is indeed, but I am too petite to reach the door to close it unaided and these apparati over here are pitching quite the fit over the alleged aroma-”

“I’ll be right there,” Hoggle rudely cut him off and Didymus heard the sound of shuffling leather shoes heading his way.

This general overreaction was surprisingly commonplace, but the knight refused to take in the stride what he himself experienced no evidence of. He had been reassured by the king himself that the bog was actually physically safe to be around in spite of its appearance, even in close proximity, and that it was only slightly damaging to one’s health if one got it on bare skin due to the myriad of small organisms that grew and lived in the sludge. For his age, Sir Didymus was still perfectly fit - a living example of the truth of the situation - and while he had always been careful of the bog, he had felt doubly protected: nearly all of his ‘bare skin’ was covered in fur. The rumor of the ‘stench’ was hogwash as far as he was concerned. Perhaps the organisms created fumes that others were allergic to; it was the only explanation that made any sense.

In moments, Hoggle came around the bend and immediately grimaced at the organic chemical compounds that were rabidly assaulting his large, bulbous nose. Without saying a word, he quickly pinched it shut, holding his breath, and, limping over to the door, carefully reached in and grabbed the edge, slowly pulling it mostly closed. Didymus retrieved the ring from where it had been thrown, hopped up lightly onto the dwarf’s shoulders and put the object back in the knocker’s mouth; still hanging onto it, walking backward, they closed the door. Hoggle instantly gasped for air.

“What on earth did you say to him?! I ain’t ever seen that done!” the dwarf pressed, catching his breath along with the knockers.

“I did not raise His Majesty’s ire that I know of, if that is what thou art referring to,” Didymus replied guardedly, “but I must confess that this whole misadventure is beginning to look stranger and stranger to me,” he shook his head, looking down a moment thoughtfully. “But before I quit this place I would like just one civil question answered.” He looked Hoggle squarely in the eye. “Why does everyone go on so about the swamp? I have lived there for many healthy years and yet it seems an anathema for all life-forms not native to it, yourself included.”

Hoggle’s expression turned to pity; this was going to be so hard on him.

“Didy,” he said quietly, “you lost your sense of smell completely years ago. The little you have left is just in your sense of taste.”

Sir Didymus was incensed. “Are you intimating, sir, that my remaining senses, apart from the eye I lost slaying a dragon single-handedly, are not what they should be?” he retorted accusingly, hands on his hips.

“Hey, take it easy, I ain’t attackin’ ya,” Hoggle mollified him, “doncha remember it?” It was the time of that terrible monster in the Labyrinth and all of us had been warned to watch our hides and Jareth hisself was heading a hunting party to capture it and you were there.”

“Ah, the old glory days,” Didymus momentarily basked in the memory. “I was also present at the terror’s subduing and humiliation if I have not regaled you before…”

“You have. Many times,” the dwarf smiled a bit wanly, “but in the official report, if you ever bothered ta read it, they only caught that thing unawares because it was distracted by in the act of sneaking up on you and tryin’ ta eat ya.”

“Tis true the dastardly monster had the gift of stealth. I must ruefully admit I’ve never seen better.”

“Didy, that beast reeked of musk and body odor so bad you could smell it from a quarter mile away. That’s how the army had been tracking it mostly. That’s how Jareth found you in time. That’s when he knew yer sense of smell was gone. You were reposted to the Bog shortly after ta keep ya outta harm’s way.”

Didymus was thunderstruck. Could it possibly be true? His heart railed against it but something of what Hoggle had just said clicked together suddenly in his memory. It all washed. The reality of his old age reared its ugly head. If he had stayed on the good earth he would have been dead already. His life was artificially preserved here in Faerie, but if it was only to be for ignominy and humiliation…

Hoggle clearly read the crestfallen despair in the knight’s expressive canine features and knew he had to snap him out of it quick; if Didymus lost confidence in himself, all was truly lost!

“So you’re gettin’ old. So what?” he tried to buck him up. “Ya realize you can do things with no depth perception that I can’t do with both eyes? You still got yer strength and yer mind and yer hearing. Your reputation for never giving up is legendary.” His eyes dropped to the paving stones. “Please don’t give up now. Sarah needs ya and I can’t help her,” he said quietly, looking back up in awe and a little honest fear at the door they had struggled to close only minutes earlier. “I think time’s runnin’ short a little early this time around.”

Didymus was still a little dejected at the revelation but took the well-meant encouragement to heart. The dwarf had promptly reminded him of his present duty. Regardless of what he thought of himself, there were those whose need was far greater than any worries about ability. He clearly still had enough: his good eye was sharp, his right arm strong, and his legs weary but willing to continue to the ends of this world if necessary. His heart and soul were tireless - that was enough - and he rallied against the moment of doubt. 

“Thank you for being honest with me, Sir Hoggle,” he looked back up with a confident little smile and Hoggle inwardly collapsed in relief - that had been close! “Whatever this road is, I must take it,” he said, striding toward the ominous door with the deaf knocker for a moment. Rumor had it its ears were stopped to keep it from hearing the terrible things going on just on the other side of the door. Didymus had gone to start climbing the tree again but Hoggle stopped him.

“I helped ya close the one and I wasn’t struck dead. I think he’ll let me help ya open the other; the Bog might’ve only been a personal message.

“I suspect something of the same,” Didymus replied, walking back over. Standing on the dwarf’s shoulders he easily reached the knocker and after two judicious bangs the door swung open…to an even darker and more foreboding forest than should have been behind the second door. At least it seemed traversable. Peering in before entering, Didymus had a sudden thought. “Sir Hoggle, might I trouble thee for thy pocket knife a moment? My usual defense was destroyed utterly when I went up against the Minotaur a little while ago.”

Hoggle’s eyes widened in shock. “Ya mean you got that wrong door before gettin’ in here and lived?!”

“Obviously,” the little knight replied casually, his confidence returning, “but I had to slay the ignoble wretch to do it and he shattered my staff, albeit by accident.”

Hoggle dug through his many pockets - they were full of trinkets and junk as usual - and finally produced a folded-closed five-inch blade, handing it over. Didymus took it to the tree and, climbing partway up, sawed off one of the younger branches. Quickly stripping it of leaves, in a few short strokes he had whittled a rough point out of the thinner end. A walking staff would be a comfort but a spear was more likely to be of greater use where he was being forced to go. He handed the knife back to Hoggle.

“Wish me luck, my friend,” he said simply and walked fearlessly through the doorway. Once he was inside, it immediately slammed shut of its own accord.

Hoggle had only about a minute to reflect on what all had just happened; in a flash he suddenly found himself up on the parapets of the castle! Sarah was there, pacing like a caged tiger, crystal in hand. It seemed like she was trying not to look at it but something at work in her members was fighting back.

“How’s he holding up?” she asked, not even stopping to look at him.

“Pretty well for an old guy in decent shape, although he’s got his suspicions.”

She stopped then and fixed him with a paralyzing savage glare. “You haven’t betrayed me, have you Hoggle?”

The accusation out of nowhere caught the dwarf off-guard. It was certainly Jareth who had spoken and Hoggle realized that he had better respond accordingly.

“ Course not, Yer Majesty,” he managed to answer calmly, “but even you have to concede this would look mighty queer from Didy’s point of view.”

Sarah closed her eyes and rubbed her temples for a moment. “I’m sorry that was so harsh,” she said, herself again, “I’m just so nervous.”

Hoggle nodded sympathetically. “Did you have any other jobs what need doing today, Yer Majesty?”

“Not at the moment; go ahead and take a break.”

Hoggle blinked - that one sounded like both of them! At least everyone was in agreement until further notice. The sun had set while he had been in the hedge maze but evening was truly underway now, with the first bright stars twinkling to life at the far horizon and that huge blue moon just coming up. ‘Jareth’ always made it day for the runners at the beginning of the course, but for some strange reason instead of morning he had only made it mid-afternoon for Didymus; any number of possible explanations in this case, really. Hoggle casually took an old bone pipe from his chest strap, screwed it together and dug a drawstring pouch out of his side pocket. Sarah glanced over and noticed what he was doing - he had just taken some dried plant material out of the pouch and was packing the bowl tightly, going through the practiced motions of what was obviously a very old habit.

“You have tobacco all the way out here?!” she asked incredulously.

“Nope, somethin’ better,” he cracked a guilty smile. “Ain’t good for humans, though. I’ll stay upwind.” He walked a few yards away from her and sat down on the turret. Lighting the pipe with a match, he took his first drag; a couple seconds later, blue smoke rings puffed away on the night breeze.

Sarah desperately wished she had a way to relax right now, even if it was artificial. She was wound so tight she felt she should burst from the tension. It had been a very trying and bizarre day and it wasn’t even over yet. The goblins were annoying and stupid beyond belief; if she ever survived this, she would never complain about babysitting ever, ever again. Toby was a walk in the park in June compared to this madhouse. Stranger by far was the fact that she hadn’t been hungry or thirsty all day. Did ‘Jareth’ actually provide for her bodily needs as well? It would appear so.

No wonder William was so thin, she reflected. William Cooke. She suddenly wondered where he’d ended up, but she wasn’t about to try to look in on him; she’d tried it already with her family and seen nothing but a gray mist, feeling a faint teasing sensation. It called for a different procedure in ‘The Forbidden Book of Knowledge’ (as she thought of it now) and she wasn’t about to risk a look for such a trifle, although her fingers practically itched when she though of the accursed thing now. On impulse, she formed another crystal to watch Didymus some more. The action required had become second-nature in less than half-a-day but she wasn’t even aware of it anymore. Or, indeed, the fact that she was becoming more like Jareth by the hour.

Hoggle glanced over, seeing the sudden light in his peripheral vision, and saw her own glowing diversion.

“Oh, Missy,” he sighed, “ya can’t keep spyin’ on him like that - you’ll just make him nervous.”

Before she knew what she was doing, Sarah irritatedly threw the crystal against the masonry and it gave a surprisingly satisfying smash before dissolving into nothing.

Hoggle observed her actions with almost scientifically cold accuracy. Jareth was beginning to get the upper hand - that much was dead certain. What he wasn’t certain of was if and how she would unintentionally try to stop Didymus from entering the city. She had just automatically formed another crystal, completely oblivious to the dwarf’s presence again. Hoggle had been half-mulling something over during this entire interview but he had just come to his decision. Taking one last long drag, he snuffed out the remaining herb; he usually hated wasting it like this - it was hard enough to cultivate in this alkaline, rocky soil - but the situation was most likely a matter of life-and-death for somebody. Melting into the shadows, he headed down to the rear castle entrance and disappeared into the forest.

He knew what he had to do.


	8. Knight of the Soul

Before even venturing through that ominous stone portal, Sir Didymus knew from the types of trees present and the lack of any trail - even in the dark - that he had been deliberately placed in immense danger. This was The Dreaming Forest, a natural landmark that ran for miles on the opposite side of the Castle Beyond the Goblin City, far beyond the Labyrinth proper and any prospect of illicit help. In fact, there was no way to tell where he had even been dropped off. The forest predated the Labyrinth itself. This was old Faerie country, and any brave or foolish enough to wander these woods at will was near-certain to incur something’s wrath for trespassing. Especially at night. And if the glamours didn’t kill a person, the wild beast would given half the chance. Since he had no way to determine north and so obtain his bearing, Didymus simply struck out in the same direction he had come through the portal.

There was one rather familiar danger out here as well: Fireys. This forest directly connected to the smaller inner forest wedged between the outer Labyrinth and the Great Goblin Wall, a defense built to protect the Goblin City from magical attacks more than anything else. Like more earthly apes, there were many different troops of Fireys; most of them were out here, actually. Jareth had presented him with a fitting challenge indeed, one which would require all of his skills as a knight to survive, almost a quest within a quest, and Didymus briefly reveled at the thought. If only he weren’t so tired…

Shaking himself alert, for he had been awake a day-and-a-half now on top of the exertion, he carefully beat the bushes and foliage ahead of him with the blunt end of his walking stick so as not to step on anything or anyone as he progressed; more than large spiders were known to hide in these plants. The canopy was so thick not even starlight was visible - he was literally going forward in the dark. A trail of will-o-wisp lights glowed a faint ghostly white off a ways to the left, offering deceptively friendly passage, but the knight forced himself not to see them, keeping his eye glued to what was directly ahead. A couple paces later he spooked a small animal he couldn’t make out in the dim light; fortunately for him it only flashed its sharp teeth - which took up over half of its face - before disappearing into the brush. There was beautifully haunting singing in the clearing coming up on the right but he stopped his ears and took off at a run, careful to avoid stepping on some very large fairy-ring mushrooms. But he couldn’t avoid everything: a tree root actually lifted out of the ground and tripped him and he landed on his face. There was cackling laughter nearby, and once Sir Didymus had retrieved his walking stick/spear he was actually irked enough to look about for the culprit. 

He didn’t have to look far. Perched on a low tree-limb, still laughing, was a young-looking pwcca, nearly humanesque in his appearance currently, save for his long pointed ears and light-green skin. He was about the same size as the little knight, actually, although the creatures were rumored to be able to manifest many, many times larger and in a variety of forms.

“I know I am not welcome here and being here gives me little pleasure,” Didymus addressed him, “but thou couldst have the decency to allow me to quit this place with dignity.”

“Not on your little, furry life,” the impudent rascal answered, dropping easily to the forest floor; Didymus belatedly noticed that the fellow glowed slightly. “Mischief is my nature and purpose, and whether you like or no, you are in my realm. But I also delight in games. Would you challenge me, little mortal?” his wild, dark eyes sparkled with excitement; his opponent had the unusual nerve to stand his ground before such a creature as himself and he was curious.

“On any other day I would gladly school thine impertinence, but presently I don’t even have the time for this converse, let alone what inane foolishness would please thee. Let me pass.”

“Wrong an-swer!” he sing-songily shouted and acorns rained down about Didymus, a few hitting their mark as he made a hasty retreat away from the tree.

“Why canst thou find some Fireys to harry to amuse thyself?” he called back over his shoulder - but gasped in surprise when he turned forward once more: the pwcca stood right in front of him.

“A pretty notion it is! I should fetch some right here in a trice - they’re always up for a lark and not the least bit afraid of me! I can watch as they joyfully tear you limb from limb. Would this be more to your liking?”

“What would be to my liking,” Didymus began to growl, “would involve you and the Bog! Now stand aside.”

His opponent simply tisked, shaking his head. “Hardly a sporting offer for such an honorable knight. I shall teach you better here.”

Didymus readied to defend himself this time but the imp simply vanished. Save for some chirping insects, all was quiet. His nerves slightly frazzled, he quickly decided that he could not wait about here to be ambushed; he had to go on as best he could under the circumstances. His eye had begun to droop slightly but he blinked, forcing it open wide. Remembering Sarah, he picked up his pace again. Just off beyond the next hill he heard the sound of running water and, heedless of the dangers of water sprites, he ran for it like the proverbial man in the desert. True, it could have been only an illusion to distract a weary, thirsty traveler but, fortunately for him, it was real: there was a shallow, slow-moving stream running along the forest floor here with willow trees growing along the bank. The rustling sound he made as he strode forward through the ground cover startled a doe who had been drinking; she instantly bounded away. Or had it been a female satyr? It had happened so fast and the light was simply abysmal…oh well. Glancing about to make certain nothing else was about watching him, Didymus got down on his paws and knees and gave the water a single lap. It was clean enough to be safe. The knight quickly drank his fill, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat and helping to fill his empty stomach. Standing again presently, wiping his whiskers dry, he suddenly had an idea. He tested the depth of the streambed with his walking stick - the body of water was wide but would only come up to about mid-thigh on him. A sure way to get a faery to stop following you was supposedly to cross a stream - considering the encounter he had just had, it was worth a shot. Carefully wading out, he took his time and found enough decent footholds to ford the stream to safety on the other side; gaining the opposite bank, he shook his legs dry and continued on.

But even though he could feel his limbs moving forward in the dark, he no longer felt truly awake anymore, a dangerous mixture of physical and mental fatigue and the enchantment that the woods were named for. Soon he came over a ridge and, to his astonishment, full sunlight greeted him there! Just at the edge of the forest there was a decent-sized gated medieval city with a pristine fortress in the distance, a sight that he knew all too well. Somehow Jareth had set everything right and this had just been part of the process; the knight had followed the old ‘primrose path’ home at last! Didymus joyfully ran to the gate, his current troubles presently forgotten; upon recognizing him, the guard there saluted as if he had only been gone a day. Didymus was suddenly struck by the fact that he was the same size as the man and almost didn’t dare look down at himself, the truth making his eyes a bit misty - both eyes! He was a whole man again! 

His next thought was for Madelyn and his hand automatically reached for the hilt of his sword. If the sorcerer who had stolen his true love’s heart by his dark cunning and transformed Didymus so that he was run out of town in fear yet lived, he would rue the day he had first gasped life. Quickly making his way down the familiar cobblestone streets, Didymus came at last to his lady’s old abode, hoping against hope that if time had turned back this far perhaps she would still be there, and rapped smartly on the iron doorknocker that was carefully cast like a fist. His heart was practically in his throat when he heard the latch go up and the door opened…

Hooded Death was staring him in the face. The skeletal spectre gave an eerie shriek of a laugh and flew right past him, straight up into the broad daylight! Didymus burst into the room, blade drawn, but there was nothing left to defend.

All the furniture and belongings he remembered being here had been vandalized or stolen. The room was in serious disarray and clearly had been so for quite some time from the layers of dust and thick cobwebs all around. But it was what he saw near the cold fireplace that made his breath catch: there was the mostly rotted corpse of an old woman kneeling there on the hearth, propped against the stone mantle, the remnants of her once-rich clothing in faded tatters. She was covered in heavy cobwebs along with what was left of her home and the stench was overwhelming. In her open hand was a cheap locket that Didymus instantly recognized; he had given it her long ago as a boy before he had regular employment at the fortress. From her stance he could tell that she had died looking at it, and the subsequent thieves had left it alone because it was intrinsically worthless. The knight felt nauseous and heartsick, fighting back tears, as he slowly strode back out of the house of death and carefully shut the door. 

The city instantly melted away and he heard himself addressed by a male voice that he hated by instinct.

“You still search for me, little knight? How quaint. Even against any better judgment you never give up on a quest.”

“Foul villain!” Didymus brazenly answered the sorcerer, blade still drawn, “if thou hast any courage at all, face me like the man thou art not! It is thou who shall soon face judgment!”

“She was lovely for a time,” the voice continued teasingly from seemingly no direction at all, “and I took great pleasure of her, but at length even my power could not fully keep her from aging. She grew ugly and infirm as all women do given the chance, and you could have had her then with my blessing if you hadn’t run away like a coward. You would’ve made her a nice pet in her declining years.”

“I was nearly burned alive for what you did to me!” Didymus angrily shouted into the darkness. “And for what thou didst to her, thou wilt answer for now!”

“Very well,” the voice whispered.

Sir Didymus kept his eyes glued to the darkness in front of him; there was movement, it had begun to coagulate into a human form. It took on flesh and robes and was at last the sinister embodiment of the itinerant sorcerer who had ruined a random knight’s life strictly for his own twisted entertainment. The apparition had had many names in the dim past but all had been given by his victims and none were decent enough to record. Without any preliminaries or warning, a bright red light shot out of the sorcerer’s staff straight at Sir Didymus, but even in a man’s body the knight had always been agile and he easily leapt out of the way to the side. Bright fire flew again and this time he was not so lucky; it pierced his ribcage and he felt rather than saw the thick fur that began to grow and spread like a dread disease that he had indeed grown sick of.

Not this time, he thought as his blade sang through the air and bit into the staff, causing it to splinter badly but not fully break in two. The sorcerer laughed.

“You are a trite fool if you believe destroying this toy will defeat me,” he tossed the damaged staff aside and began to form a ball of red light in his bare hands.

Didymus was ready for him this time, and before he could complete the hex the knight went for a bold double-handed frontal assault that could have cleaved his head in two or at least lopped it off, only to be promptly thrown back by an invisible shield, the force knocking him to the ground, making him an easy target. The sorcerer loomed over his prey, seeming to savor the moment right before robbing him of his humanity again, but Sir Didymus suddenly noticed the discarded staff lying there on the ground and an idea struck him first. If only he could reach it…

“You really should’ve quit while you were ahead,” the sorcerer tauntingly reprimanded him, aiming, “you will be far more hideous this time.”

But before he was hit, Sir Didymus rolled, grabbed the staff, and, willing it to destroy the real monster, leveled its power straight at its owner…

Who turned into the pwcca, laughing and jeering, rolling on the forest floor, kicking it with wicked merriment!

Sir Didymus just lay there in shock, catching his breath, slowly regaining his senses. He looked over at what he held in his right hand: he was only grasping his roughly-made walking stick. He felt his face with his free hand: he was still in canine form with a ruined eye and a decrepit nose and he was hopelessly lost in this accursed forest with no companionship save this maliciously mischievous imp. He heaved a great sigh and closed his eye.

What was the point to any of this anymore? He knew not how she came by her end but sweet Madelyn had most likely been dead for centuries; by rights, he should have been, too. And now he was up against another sorcerer, one he had served well, one who had been relatively kind to him in his distress. One who knew him inside out, knew all his weak points. How could he possibly hope to defeat him?

“Poor little knight,” the pwcca suddenly spoke, “I pulled a great deal of that from your memory. But you played the game well and far more virtuously than you dealt with me before. A heavy heart is a silly thing to carry for so long. Shall I reward you with a pleasant dream? Something to make you forget? There are lovely faerie maidens to be had in this wood, far lovelier than the little old woman…”

Didymus cracked open his eye; the pwcca was sitting easily on his heels right next to his head. The knight was too tired to take a good swing at him with the walking stick.

“Torment me no more, night-waif,” Didymus sat up on his palms, then stood up. His back was a bit sore now; that last fall had obviously been real. “Thou hast had thy sport. What point is there in harrying a doomed old man?”

“Ya ain’t doomed yet, Didy!”

Didymus’ ears perked up at the familiar, gruff voice. The pwcca was trying to bug him to get his attention but he could ignore him now.

“Sir Hoggle! Over here!”

“I’m a-comin’!” he heard him call back. Did his eye deceive him or was the dwarf carrying something smoldering besides a light? There was a general exodus of all manner of creatures and sprites in his wake, as if he carried something which repelled them. The pwcca at hand seemed to sense it as well and openly snarled at Hoggle as he came into the clear. The dwarf had relit the remnants of his pipe and was burning it freely; it may have been generally unhealthy for a human but this herb was a positive anathema to faerie creatures other than dwarves. He advanced on the pwcca, who hissed, standing his ground.

“I can curse you from here to the Labyrinth if you don’t snuff that out,” he threatened, doing his best to look menacing in spite of the fact that he was currently unable to change size or shape with the substance so near.

“If ya don’t clear out right now I’m gonna hurl this thing right in yer face,” the dwarf coolly countered.

“May all your children be born with their feet backwards!” the pwcca screamed and vanished into the trees. Hoggle just chuckled, shaking his grizzled old head.

“He’s a few centuries late for that one.”

Didymus walked over to him, amazed. “How in the worlds did you ever find me?”

“Spied ya in one of Jareth’s crystals - don’t ask, yer better off not knowin’ - but we gotta get you to that castle fast; time’s runnin’ out!”

Didymus bowed his head. “Thy bravery is commendable, Sir Hoggle, but I’m afraid it is wasted. I have no desire to continue, and even if I had I lack the strength.”

Hoggle was dumbfounded. “What?! Ya can’t possibly mean that!”

“I fear ‘tis quite true. I was very cruelly reminded just now of why I am here in the first place and the truth is shaming beyond repair. Please leave me in peace.”

Hoggle had never seen the little knight so low-spirited and had no intention of leaving him out here like this, but at the moment he was desperately struggling to come up with something helpful to say.

However, from the sudden rustling in the trees, offhand he had to admit that they had bigger and much more immediate problems, and those fuzzy, manically happy problems had been attracted as much by the lit tallow candle in the lantern as by the burnt herb in the pipe. Probably any drug would have drawn them; he should’ve snuffed it sooner but it was too late now. Fireys dropped out of the trees all around them.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on? We havin’ a party?” one came down right in front of Hoggle and whiffed the pipe before he got it out all the way.

“We bring the party to you!”

“Yessir!”

In spite of their imminent physical danger, Didymus was beyond caring at this point and simply didn’t respond.

“Hey!” one of them saw him, tipping up his chin with long, thin Firey fingers, “what gives with the long face?”

“Who you callin’ long-faced?” another quickly chimed in. “We all long-faced!”

“You call that long-faced?” a treble voice asked, stealing his neighbor’s long snout-and-mouth and attaching it to his own. “Now that’s long-faced!” he spoke, looking rather like a hairy gavial crocodile.

“Far out!”

“Groovy, man.”

They all cackled as the extra mouth flew back to its owner. 

“Sir Hoggle,” Didymus said very quietly, “fall back and retreat while you still have the chance. Let them have me.”

“Nothin’ doin’,” his companion responded positively, scoping out how many Fireys there were, “you’re gettin’ outta this mess whether you likes it or not. We still need ya here no matter what Jareth showed ya. If we-”

“All ya need is a good time!” a Firey cut him off, trying to make Didymus dance like a doll, but the knight’s honor could take no more and he shook off the creature out of habit.

“I’m too tired for any of this nonsense, now if you’ll just excuse me…”

Watching them manhandle Didymus like that made Hoggle cringe. These creatures were bigger than the Fireys they usually got in the Labyrinth proper, most likely had more to eat out here. They were probably strong enough to lift the little guy right off his feet…

Hoggle’s large grey eyes suddenly widened in dawning comprehension; it was absolutely brilliant! Why had he never thought of it before?

‘Cause it’s suicide, he thought a bit cynically. But then again, it just might work. There was only one way to find out. If he was wrong they’d have to run for their lives. The dwarf put two fingers in his mouth and whistled to get the troop’s attention.

He had it; it was so quiet you could’ve heard the proverbial pin drop. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Ah…heh…how would y’all feel ‘bout comin’ to the Goblin City with us?” he stuttered nervously. “Didy here might have some of his energy back by the time we get there if one of ya could just carry ‘im. Plenty of fun to be had in the City.”

Sir Didymus was openly staring at the dwarf as if he had just lost his mind. Hoggle was wondering the same thing. A couple of tense seconds ticked by as the Fireys passed looks around at each other before coming to their conclusion.

“Why, shoot, course we’ll help!”

“Nobody ever asked us for help before!”

“A city? Wowee! We ain’t never even been to town!”

“Which way, lil’ dude?”

“Thataway,” Hoggle pointed behind him, “‘bout two or three miles.”

“That’s easy!”

“Come on, y’all!”

Before Didymus even had the time to object, he was grabbed by long Firey fingers and swiftly hoisted aloft into the trees with the troop, carried in one skinny, strong Firey arm against a fuzzy pink-and-red body as they tore across the canopy in the direction of the Goblin City, hooting and hollering all the way. Far below, he saw that the dwarf was running to keep up with them. Didymus couldn’t quite decide if this was more like the cavalry or the Golden Horde that was about to descend upon Jareth, but either way he was along for the ride of his life. He didn’t even notice that on the far eastern horizon there were the first, faint trailers of the new day.


	9. Firey in the Hole!

Jareth had been pacing the turrets, as he was often wont to do when the game was afoot, keenly watching his little ex-champion, genuinely curious to see how he fared, but at the arrival of the Fireys he extinguished the crystal, not caring to watch his demise. Fate could certainly be cruel but that old knight had truly striven with his rather than just accepting it, fighting tooth and nail to be free of it. Jareth had once attempted to directly help him in an unusually altruistic mood, but what was required was only just within his grasp if he was willing to undo his own spell in the process and finally meet his long-deferred punishment, something which he could not possibly allow. So, like the liar he was, he strung along his little retainer with promises of new spells and knowledge that needed to be gained, but at length he gave up the ruse and knighted him afresh, employing him in truth. The novelty appealed to the king and Didymus was so caught up in his characteristically overwhelming sense of duty that he had had no objections, at least not at first, unaware of how the years raged by just outside of Jareth’s realm. After a time, Didymus almost seemed to forget - he was so preoccupied - but clearly in his heart of hearts he had never actually given up. So many things had happened to that man that he had had absolutely no control over or even any say in, Jareth reflected. At least he could claim his death as his own and finally be free beyond the circles of his torment.

A scuffling sound attracted his attention and he looked over at the source: Ambrosius had come up the stairs in search of decent company. Jareth remembered then that, for all the useless canine obedience training Didymus had tried to put this animal through, he had successfully managed to teach him how to open and close doors in lieu of an apology for Ambrosius’ current form. Upon noticing the difference in the girl he saw, the sheepdog started to whine and back away, but Jareth smirked and called him over in a magically friendly tone of voice and he came at once. This was an odd prize to be sure, the king thought, scratching him behind the ears. He honestly had no idea what the goblinization spell would do to an already bespelled animal but he was in no hurry to find out; he could wait until the appointed hour to make the old payment. 

Ambrosius licked one of his hands. Her hands, he noted with dark amusement, looking down at the delicately-boned fingers, the young shapely body of his new female incarnation. Kings were practically passé on Earth now. Perhaps this was just the change he needed to become relevant once more. Jareth allowed some of Sarah’s femininity to show through the disguise as he sauntered on down the stairs to the Throne Room. He couldn’t wait to see his minions’ collective shock.

For you see, William Cooke had made a very serious (albeit understandable) error in judgment: Jareth was most certainly a person still, just one without a permanent body, to the point that he and his power had nearly become separate entities. He always thoroughly enjoyed toying with his victims, giving them the illusion of control, but at times he took the reigns in truth and such instances would be blotted from the memory, the source of poor William’s misunderstanding and Sarah’s current predicament. 

Which meant that Will had been wrong about Sir Didymus as well. Jareth showed no partiality; the personal vices or virtues of his hosts meant little to him. The knight had, however, presented a very unique and potentially serious threat to the current status quo, the magnitude of which was only comprehended by Jareth himself. But the matter was all but concluded. It didn’t matter now…  
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Fireys in general could run with the speed of rabbits; in no time the troop that was carrying Sir Didymus reached the North wall of the Goblin City, with the Castle directly behind it. Rather than going over at that point, however, Hoggle led his party of misfits a quarter-mile South to the East wall. Needing no rope, the Fireys simply linked together like a Barrel-o-Monkeys and easily scrabbled up as a unit.

“Now what? I don’t see nobody!” one called.

“All ya gotta do is get their attention. Try fire!” Hoggle yelled back up.

“Hot dog!”

“Great idea!”

Without another word, the troop tore off into the city. Sir Didymus was aghast.

“Thou didn’t!”

“I certainly did,” the dwarf replied punchily. “It’s the only way we’re gonna get the army outta the way long enough for ya ta sneak into the Castle. Come on!”

“I have never participated in something so underhanded in all my life!” Didymus scolded as they backtracked to the rear of the fortress.

“Ya wanna save Sarah and yer mutt or doncha?”

“Of course, but-”

“Then shut yer trap; we gotta give them Fireys ‘bout a minute before you goes in.”

Didymus crossed his arms and leaned against the wall in undignified silence as his companion listened intently for the utter chaos that was about to be unleashed…  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The switch in the king’s appearance had been fun at first, but his goblins had asked the same set of inane, unimaginative questions enough times in a row to annoy him and, rather than attempt to explain or exploit the change, Jareth tiredly changed the spell back to its regular setting, masculine once more. He had magically coaxed the sheepdog into the Throne Room; he was currently curled up at his new master’s feet, enjoying his attention - at least he didn’t crazily put him in harm’s way or attempt to run him all over the countryside. The goblins had all but settled down as well, some playing games, some napping in corners. It looked like it was going to be a quiet win after all…

At least until he heard the high tower sentinel screaming, “FIRE! FIREYS IN CITY!!!”

Jareth leapt to his feet and ran to the window, wide-eyed: to his amazement and rage he beheld an entire troop of unusually large Fireys dancing across the rooftops, hooting and hollering for the locals to come out and play. And no less than three of them had unintentionally started a block of houses on fire! The Goblin City had been built according to medieval code standards and, in consequence, the streets were more like narrow alleys and most of the buildings were practically on top of each other if not joined together in rows. There had only been one other fire here centuries ago and it had nearly decimated over half the city before they managed to get it out. 

Clearly his subjects, who usually couldn’t remember what happened five minutes ago, remembered that incident - it had made enough of an impression; goblins were pouring out of the Throne Room and the Alarm Bell was being rung furiously without so much as a single directive. Down below he saw the emergency fire brigade - such as it was - forming the beginnings of a bucket line at the fountain in the square while detachments of the army were foolishly trying to route Fireys out into the open and shooting at them to no effect. Or, rather, not the intended effect; they did succeed in making the Fireys angry. And angry Fireys fought with fire - it shot out of their long, thin fingers and poured out of their gaping mouths, the pupils of their eyes ablaze. They almost seemed to be made of it! In under five minutes Goblin City was an inferno, the smoke so thick it was beginning to irritate Jareth’s human eyes and lungs; he could barely see past the square. There was enough stone masonry inbetween that even if the whole city was leveled the castle was in no immediate danger. It would be a damn nuisance having to rebuild from this catastrophe, though. 

But, beyond that, there was something outrageously strange about all this. Such an incursion on the city had never happened. It was true that there were Fireys in the Dreaming Forest due North of the castle, but never had they even thought to travel this far South away from their natural habitat and food sources. Unless…

It couldn’t be.

It was impossible.

It could only mean one thing: Didymus was here!

Had the situation not been so terribly dire on several counts, Jareth would’ve laughed at the trick: his old retainer had effectively emptied the entire fortress of enemy combatants without so much as an ‘en garde’! But as things stood the army was gone - he could scream until Sarah’s throat was raw and they still wouldn’t come back - and now…

Jareth took the stairs two at a time up to the Enigma Chamber (what Sarah had quaintly mentally named after a modern illusionary artist), thinking dark thoughts about a man he had once been foolish enough to attempt to help, with Ambrosius bounding after him, the spell of blind obedience falling easily into place.

The old Earthling proverb was true: no good deed went unpunished. Jareth swore it was his last.  
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Didymus was listening to the commotion in the City that he couldn’t help but feel partly responsible for because he had made no efforts to dissuade the well-meaning Fireys from this dismal outcome. His companion was also listening, but with a look that could only be described as grim satisfaction.

“Thou shouldst be looking to employment elsewhere thyself after this debacle, Sir Hoggle,” he whispered. The dwarf shrugged off his concern.

“I have a funny feelin’ you’ll have plenty of time to thank me for this. Ludo, come on out! It’s time!”

Sir Didymus hadn’t even seen the yeti he had hidden himself so well in the foliage. “Sir Ludo!” he exclaimed in surprised delight.

“Ludo…help brotha,” the beast quietly rumbled with a big, simple grin, lumbering up to the wall. Crouching down on his immense hands and knees, he made an almost inaudibly deep sound in the back of his throat, concentrating with his eyes shut tight; within seconds, one of the large rectangular masonry stones popped smartly out in front of him. He picked it up as if it were no heavier than a pebble and put it to the side, creating a hole just large enough for the miniature knight to sneak through. 

Didymus glanced back at his compatriots for a moment, not knowing what to say. Their bond ran deeper than blood. 

“Go on,” the dwarf roughly urged him, “this ain’t no time to get all sappy. We’ll stay right here…”

Ludo paid Hoggle no heed, however, and scooped up the little knight in a big bear hug.

“Tis good to see you too,” Didymus returned it, squished as he was, fighting back fond tears. Ludo carefully set him back down on his feet and tapped him in the direction of the hole with one enormous finger, his animalistic brown eyes hopeful.

“Thank you, by brothers-in-arms,” he addressed them, his emotions brought to rein. “With any luck I shall see you again soon.”

And with that he ducked through the hole and was gone.

Hoggle let out a huge sigh, sagging against the wall. Didy was in. He had done everything he could and now it was all up to the knight. Ludo sat down beside him on the ground, donning the classic pose of ‘The Thinker’, his chin resting on a fist.

“Didee…Sawah…Jaweth?” the beast sounded off the names with a furrowed brow.

“I know it’s confusin’, big guy, but it’ll be okay,” Hoggle reassured him, reaching way up and skritching behind Ludo’s right horn.

I hope, he thought, glancing uncertainly up at the high tower.


	10. The Good Dog

Half-hidden in the hazy smoke that made a rust-red dawn, Sir Didymus silently tip-toed up to the back entrance of the castle with his valiant little heart pounding in his throat - only to find the door locked; Hoggle had forgotten it was only used as an emergency exit now and opened one-way from the inside. The service gate built into the front portal was never locked, however, and to this entry the knight carefully made his way. Stealth in general was alien to his nature - he was, and always had been, a man of action - but he sternly reminded himself that his true opponent lay within the fortress and he therefore must needs gain it. It wasn’t easy being this quiet for another reason, however; even though Didymus could not smell the fire, the acrid substances in the air made breathing in general unpleasant and he was having to try very hard not to cough, his sleeve over his nose and mouth. Goblins were hurrying back and forth to the fountain in the square or just running in circles in panic, too preoccupied to spot his bright crimson-and-gold livery as he melted through the bronze goblin-sized door and closed it again noiselessly.

The havoc outside was instantly silenced; it was ominously quiet in here. Didymus sighed, glancing about. How often he had come up these old stone stairs, seeking a new quest or the basic favor of the mysterious monarch that was the Goblin King. How often he had enjoyed it; he had never been told so but he was fairly certain that he had been His Majesty’s favorite subject for a long, long time. The dark years of his life had not been entirely so, but this episode was obviously behind him. Resigned, he mounted the staircase that led to the Throne Room for what he was sure was to be the final time.

The room was empty except for a black chicken and detritus left about by the goblins - he quickly reflected that it had also been thus just yesterday at Lady Sarah’s trial; she had fearlessly run up the spiral staircase that led to the king’s private quarters on the second floor. He had never been allowed to even see them - all but the challengers and the sentinel were usually barred entry. If the king had had the audacity to trap that girl in his room… He took a deep breath and ran the dizzying corkscrew-tight flight.

What he saw upon gaining the landing literally took his breath away; the Enigma Chamber had been deliberately designed to deliver this precise effect. Strictly constructed to be a nuisance, the room had normal gravity but to the observer it appeared to obey no empirical laws of Newtonian physics at all due to the manner all of the bare, stone staircases that were situated every-which-way.

Gravity, of course, was no hindrance to Jareth; Didymus’ eye opened even wider when he spotted the king pacing along a landing that was technically on the ceiling, dressed all in black.

“What did I ever do to you to deserve this ungrateful insubordination, Didymus?” he called down without looking at him; the room made his voice ring all round. “I took you under my wing in your ensorcelled state, gave you work, extended your lifespan by centuries, tried to use my own power to reverse your spell out of a sense of charity - in this one act I failed you, but in nothing else.”

With a flourish he vanished through one of the rounded doorways, only to reappear walking up a flight of sideways steps. Didymus steeled his nerves and walked down a short flight into the chamber.

“Tis true you have done well by me in the past, sire,” the knight called back boldly, “but in under two days you have thoughtlessly threatened and imperiled two people I hold dear, for no honorable reason I can possibly divine. And I am here to save them both.”

Jareth walked straight over an edge, only to reappear slowly pacing down the stairs right behind Didymus. “What happened to Ambrosius,” he began, making Didymus jump, turning sharply in the direction of his voice, “you brought upon yourself for severely impeding my dealings with a challenger. And as for Sarah…” The king smiled a small, knowing smile. “She’s safe. In fact, from a physical standpoint, she’s far safer now than she has ever been in her entire life.” The smile dropped as he stopped right in front of him. “But since you have moved so far beyond the realm of my good graces…”

The king pointed away so he would look - far across the room was Ambrosius, unsaddled, seated on a right-side-up landing! 

“Ambrosius, come!” Sir Didymus called to him. It was not unusual for his mount to not obey orders but the dog seemed not to even hear him; he stayed stock-still. “What on earth did you do to him?!” the knight angrily accused.

“Only what you have failed to do in all your years of attempted training,” Jareth answered coolly with the beginnings of a cruel smile. “I’ve made him a good dog.”

The thought both repulsed and horrified Sir Didymus. Ambrosius wasn’t really a dog at all, but only he and the other man in this room were the only two souls alive who knew this. Ambrosius had simply never adjusted well to his bespelled form, thinking that the world had gotten bigger instead of him growing exponentially smaller, and in consequence he had become something of a scaredy-cat (to pardon the phrase), not to mention completely driven by his adopted canine instincts. But if Jareth had stripped the knight’s beloved mount of his will he would pay dearly for such a heinous act. As if to drive the point home, the Goblin King formed a crystal and pitched it across the room - as it flew it turned into a red rubber ball.

“Fetch!” he yelled.

Ambrosius suddenly sprang into action and bounded after the toy, tongue lolling. Didymus’ heart sank, hoping vainly that this spell was more easily reversible than his own, as he began to run after him. Unlike himself, his mount was well-rested and even without the magical impetus he would have enjoyed this game. Coming to the end of the room, the ball bounced through a doorway and straight up a vertical flight of stairs on the wall - and Ambrosius followed, barking happily! Didymus blinked. It was impossible. 

No, he reminded himself, nothing was impossible here, not even ruthlessly turning on someone who has faithfully served you for centuries for nothing more than the crime of having a conscience. He rapidly followed Ambrosius from below, trying to gage a point where he could intercept him again on the correct plane. This would’ve been difficult enough to do with two eyes, but with Didymus’ impaired depth perception it was a small miracle he hadn’t fallen to his death about a half-dozen times by now; the light was playing terrible tricks on his remaining eye.

At last Ambrosius caught the ball - it seemed to have given up the chase and hopped right into his mouth - and he turned to return it to his new master. Didymus suddenly, instinctively knew, having seen the clock in the Throne Room, that the moment the sheepdog reached the king it would all be over. His fears were confirmed as he spotted Jareth on a perpendicular flight to the right, readying a crystal behind his back.

Didymus mind raced furiously - he had to do something and fast but what?! Out of panic he called out to Ambrosius to stop, but he did not realize until after he’d done it that he had barked the warning instead of saying actual words.

To his blank amazement and surprise, this seemed to get through; Ambrosius stopped in mid-gallop and looked back, every bit as surprised, and put down the ball on the paving stone to bark back: ‘What’s wrong?’

In all the long years of his enchantment, Didymus had known that there was the technical possibility that he and his mount might be able to communicate this way - no doubt Ambrosius had heard some of his rider’s knee-jerk barking over the years on occasions when he was truly irate - but his pride had forbade him from consciously stooping to the animal level of his current form. Now he saw it was their only hope. He swallowed his pride.

‘You need to come with me right now, my old friend! You are in great danger!’ Didymus barked back.

‘No I’m not! My master loves me!’ Ambrosius wagged his tail, glancing at Jareth, who was looking a bit leery at this odd discourse. ‘Look, he wants to give me a treat!’

‘That man is not your master and he wants to do something so horrible to you I can’t even explain it! He wants to turn you into an even smaller creature, and uglier at that!’

Ambrosius whined, conflicted; Jareth’s spell kept him from recognizing Didymus but somehow he just knew that the strange, clothed dog talking to him was speaking the truth. He also felt the persuasive pull of the Goblin King’s power, promising a good breakfast when they were done here and games and affection forevermore. But… ‘What do I do?’

‘Remember!’ Didymus saw his time was rapidly drawing to a close; Jareth had guessed what was going on between them and was dashing for Ambrosius. ‘Jump across to me! You’ve done this before, I know you can make it! Remember the war horse you truly are!’

Something in that last phrase stirred a dim memory for Ambrosius, the incongruent impression of once being much larger, much stronger, long ago, of grazing in beautiful, lush valleys with other stallions and mares, of galloping straight at a mounted armed enemy without a trace of fear, of being comfortably ridden through forest and town by a slightly crazy but kind-hearted man…and he suddenly recognized Didymus’ clothing as the same!

He leaped just as Jareth gained the landing but came up a paw short of where Didymus stood. The knight reached out to catch him but lost his own balance in the process and fell as well. He heard Ambrosius howl and then he was gone from view. 

But Didymus kept falling. He fell and fell - there seemed to be no end to it - until the very masonry around him came apart and started falling, too. Oddly, rather than smashing flat on the paving stones, he landed lightly on his feet. Quickly looking about, he saw that he was alone, trapped on a floating piece of the castle floor with broken bits of walls stranded in midair in the middle of a dimly-lit void.

No, not quite alone: Jareth stepped out of the shadow of the remaining doorway. Didymus could not remember ever seeing the king look quite this sinister. Only that apparition of Hooded Death was more chilling but not by much. The knight held his ground. If this was how it all ended, so be it, but he wouldn’t go down without fighting to avenge those whom he had loved. Although he suddenly noticed that somewhere along the way he had lost his makeshift spear…

“You should never have come here, little knight,” the king spoke ominously, beginning to circle him. “You have fallen irreparably below your title. I should offer you nothing more than a quick and merciful end to the pointless, unsung travesty that your existence has become rather than clemency. I could have had you executed already for treason but I didn’t want to believe it. You are forcing my hand.”

Didymus had never heard the precise Words of Power, the incantation necessary to defeat the rat who called himself Jareth, but he knew something of them from whispered rumors. All he had to do was successfully stand up to Jareth, and he allowed his confidence to lead him. He stood up straight, all two-and-a-half feet of him, arms akimbo, and looked his monarch squarely in the eye.

“I am Sir Didymus Delamere of the City of Berwick, twice-knighted, decorated on and off the field of duty, slayer of dragons and of monsters, both beasts and men. I claim no kingdom, nor, indeed after this, any land as my own, but my will is certainly as strong as yours and my heart is far greater. You cannot possibly bully me further; I resign from your service.”

In an almost inspired flash of irony, Didymus mentally switched to his informal set of pronouns. Whatever Jareth was, he was no longer his superior.

“Thou hast no power over me, thou vile cur! Now give back Ambrosius and Sarah before I have to fight thee off this ledge!”

Didymus’ words seemed to echo on and on as a clock somewhere chimed thirteen.

…and then two very odd things happened almost simultaneously. The Goblin King’s very magic seemed to be visibly draining away from him, beginning to form a shimmering orb far overhead, but Didymus was distracted from watching this process by the sudden commotion emanating from the orb above itself.

“No!” a small, goblinesque voice cried out. “I can’t hold him! The magic is too strong! I’ll do anything, anything for you if only-”

“YOU MUST,” a deep voice answered that chilled Didymus straight down to the bone. A blood-curdling scream tore through the air and there was a sudden explosion, the force of which knocked the knight to the ground. 

Silence and darkness followed.

When he opened his eye again, Didymus was a bit disoriented by what he saw but quickly realized that he was on the floor of the Enigma Chamber. Groaning, he stiffly sat up, but upon going to assess the damage he nearly jumped out of his skin - he was a man once more! Not trusting his senses he pinched himself hard and winced from the pain. This was real! He had survived! And there, there in the corner behind a staircase was a beautiful, glowing portal. Stifling back tears, he had commenced walking toward it when he heard muffled noises like someone else coming to. Had Jareth survived as well? He turned to face what was left of his fallen adversary and had a shock that was nearly as big as the first - it was Sarah! He ran to her side in a heartbeat, cradling her fair head off the hard, cold stone floor. She seemed unwounded but there was still plenty of reason for concern; she was unconscious.

Sarah slowly opened her eyes, feeling as if she was waking up from a terrible dream, only to find a strange man kneeling at her side, gently supporting her back so she could sit up. He had obviously been handsome in his youth but age had somewhat marred his features. He looked like he was probably in his late sixties - his light-brown hair and mustache were half white - but he was dressed in 16th century costume. His right eye was a warm brown that spoke great kindness and care but there was a black patch over the left…

“…Didymus?” Sarah incredulously asked.

“One and the same, my lady,” his lowered voice almost shook with emotion, as if this was news to him as well. Sarah launched forward and hugged him, taking him a bit by surprise, but presently he returned it.

“You made it! I was so scared for you!”

“As I was for thee!” he pulled back to look at her. “But how didst thou know I was in danger? Did that rapscallion rogue tell thee of my plight in some dungeon?”

Sarah sighed, quirking an odd smile. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news for you. Actually, they’re the same thing.”

“What is it?” He was all concern. Sarah hoped he wouldn’t have heart failure hearing this.

“Long live the King,” she said with a touch of irony, bowing slightly from where she sat.

Didymus was thunderstruck. “I beg your pardon?”

“It was a guy named William Cooke for a couple of centuries, and then me for a day, and now it’s you; you not only won but managed to get rid of Jareth once and for all, so you should be safe. Can you believe that was me in there ?! That experience was definitely…something else,” she nervously laughed. “I was sort of in control at first but he eventually got the better of me. I’m sorry for how he treated you in the end; I didn’t have any say in the matter. This goofball scheme was actually Will’s idea but he didn’t have time to implement it himself and, besides, I think he got some of his information wrong, but it seems to have worked anyway,” she admitted a little sheepishly, attempting to sound positive, not sure how he was going to take this.

Didymus sat back on his hands and studied Sarah with a wary sort of admiration. Even with the magic to disguise her and lend her power, that had been quite the stunt to pull off and it had no doubt taken a lot of nerve and guts, not to mention talent. It almost made him wish he was a few centuries younger; this attractive, intelligent girl would grow into quite a woman. 

“I hope never to be your adversary again, my lady,” he said guardedly but playfully, making her blush. “But what has happened to Ambrosius?”

Sarah gasped, covering her mouth. “Oh my gosh, I’d nearly forgotten, I’m so sorry!”

“Peace, dear, don’t upset thyself; I merely thought thou might know. If we are unharmed, chances are he is as well. I only wonder what form he is in,” he said, looking away thoughtfully.

“What form?” Sarah repeated.

Didymus looked back. “Both I am and my mount were enchanted by an evil sorcerer many ages ago. I fear life as a sheepdog never suited him well,” he laughed a little, looking down. “In his natural state, Ambrosius is a -”

Loud whinnying interrupted him; it sounded like it was most likely coming from the Throne Room. “Ambrosius,” Didymus sighed in relief, closing his eye a moment. Sarah moved to try to get up but Didymus was instantly on his feet to assist her. She belatedly saw the portal and what was left of the glowing orb above them, a faint whisper of what it had once been, remembering.

“Offhand, I’d say you just won the Grand Prize tax-free, but don’t let the power go to your head. What’s left of it. Will handpicked you as a suitable candidate because of your personal honor and sense of duty. He knew you would take good care of this place. I guess he was…in and out…more often than I was.”

“Don’t even think on it. It’s over.”

“Still…oh! One last thing. It’s not official, just something personal.”

“Anything, Lady.”

“…remember that unspeakable monster in the basement?” 

He gravely nodded. “It yet lives?”

“Yes. Well, kind of,” she winced. “Could you just put it out of its misery for me, please? I can’t stand the thought of that thing down there slowly starving to death, but if it’s really too dangerous to set free…”

“It shall be done quickly and cleanly in his sleep.”

“Thanks. For everything. And if you see Hoggle, can you thank him for me, too? I don’t think I’ll have the chance to say goodbye and you won’t come into your power until I leave,” she said, glancing back at the portal; it had grown slightly smaller.

“I understand.” 

Saying goodbye was going to be so hard. The old knight went to kiss her hand properly but she embraced him again and, standing on tiptoe, lightly kissed his cheek instead. When she let go, she could see he was trying not to cry; she was, too.

“Take good care of yourself. Don’t let them get under your skin,” she forced herself to laugh, “and remember that you have real friends in this place.” Before she could get any more emotional, Sarah swiftly jogged away through the portal and disappeared. 

The golden portal closed into a thin line and shot back into the orb. And the orb slowly got bigger and bigger until it was over six feet in diameter. It came down and surrounded Didymus in a golden light, swirling about him until it had all absorbed into his skin; he felt a slight tingling as it happened but noticed no difference in himself when it ended.  
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The plight of a two-hundred-year-old man dropped into the modern world is almost a trite storyline to us and yet the real thing is no joke. It will take two years for William Cooke to get his bearings and back on his feet and he will need anti-anxiety medication to help him with the drastic change and the trauma at first. But he will cope. He will learn. He will survive…  
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Sarah Williams was immediately grounded with no T.V. for a month when she turned up unannounced in her room after having been missing without a trace for three days, offering no satisfactory explanation of where she had been but seeming sufficiently rattled that her parents let the topic go, confident that she wouldn’t do whatever it was again. She was oddly placid about the punishment, almost as if it was enough of a relief just to be back home again that she didn’t really care. She was grounded for an extra week when her step-mother caught her burning a book on the cement patio in the backyard. There was no explanation for this, either, and by the time Karen got there the cover was charred and the pages were nothing but ash…  
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Even if he was a man again, what Didymus had been fighting for all those years was in the distant past, he reflected as he took a few flights of stairs up to exit the room. Jareth had been right about that much. The world he was from was long gone, but, whether he liked it or not, this enigma of a kingdom was his future and he was going to invest in it. If he had any power at all he would use it for the good of his subjects. It was probable that he could not restore the goblins the way he himself had been, but they had involuntarily paid for this magic; using it to directly help them felt like something akin to justice, but he knew it would never be enough. 

Upon reaching the landing, though, a funny idea suddenly popped into his mind and he couldn’t help but smirk at it: he was the ‘good dog’, willing to stay home to guard the fort and those within, to serve with no thought for himself save a little acknowledgement, to value loyalty for the sake of loyalty above all else. He had been charged with the care of this place and he knew that, for better or worse, he would do his best.

Coming back down the spiral staircase - it was a lot smaller than he remembered, he noted with a touch of humor - he beheld the chaos his grand old horse had caused in the Throne Room: goblins were hiding in crevices up in the walls to get away from Ambrosius’ huge, trampling hooves! Didymus managed to get him calmed back down but belatedly noticed that one unlucky goblin had been stepped on badly, nearly crushed. He rushed over to help, wishing he knew how to heal him…and no sooner had he thought this than a hollow, golden crystal was in his hand. He held it to the damaged and bleeding area in the prone goblin’s torso and to his amazement the crystal absorbed, healing the internal and external wounds on the spot! The goblin rolled over as if nothing had happened to him and looked up at the human knight in wonder.

“Art thou feeling better?” Didymus asked, giving him a hand up. All the creature could do was stare at Didymus’ chest, wide-eyed, still in shock. It was then that Didymus looked down and saw he was now wearing the crest of the empire. He smiled, straightening to his full height, six-foot-two. It felt glorious.

“Jareth the Tyrant has fallen!” he proclaimed. “I hereby name myself Didymus I, King of the Goblins and Lord of the Labyrinth!”

This, compounded with what he had just done for one of their fallen comrades, was enough to make the whole room erupt into cheers and general celebration. There was much work to be done in the days to come but there were willing hearts and hands to help.

 

As a wise man once said, you cannot always change your fate, but you can rise to meet it.

 

Fin


End file.
